


The Whitechapel Mystery.

by springburn



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alien Gender/Sexuality, Danger, Detective Story, F/F, F/M, Gen, Jack the Ripper - Freeform, Murder Mystery, Time Travel, Whodunnit, angst/feels, descriptions of violence, victorian london, whitechapel murders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-01 07:00:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 36,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11481120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: The story opens in Victorian London.Madame Vastra is waiting for tea.





	1. Paternoster.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is, of course made up, but most of the facts of the cases are true. They have been written and analysed many times in the past, but this is my take on the story. 
> 
> As usual I will try to make it as historically accurate as possible. 
> 
> It is essentially a detective story, and will tie in with Doctor Who in a way that will be revealed as the story unfolds. 
> 
> I am a huge fan of the Paternoster Gang, and I love Bill and Nardole, so they are all there. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

CHAPTER ONE. 

The fire in the front parlour of Paternoster Row crackled invitingly. 

Outside the ancient street bustled. 

Narrow, cobbled.  
The vast edifice of St Paul's Cathedral towering over the houses menacingly.  
Each passing hour measured by the quarterly chiming of its clock.  
Bells clamouring forth on Sunday service days, High days and holidays.  
From the vast West Front, fashioned from blocks of enduring Portland stone, saints and apostles stared down with sightless eyes on the dwellings below, pigeons fluttering and roosting amongst their venerated ranks.  
A person could never help but feel as if the whole lot would come tumbling down on ones head, should they chance to stand close and look up at that grand grey dome.

The houses in the Row leaned into one another, like old men with bad backs.  
Their portals and mullions crooked but stoic. Leaded lattice windows, staunch oak doorways, built to last.  
Around the back, in Ave-Maria Lane, was the mews, where the carriage and horse were kept.  
A cobbled stable yard and outhouse. Dimly lit and offering the kind of privacy required by someone who tended to keep a low profile. 

The lamp lighter was out as the daylight faded.  
Cries echoed from the muffin man as he rang his bell to advertise his wares, eager to sell off his remaining surplus and be on his way home before dark.  
Inns and coffee houses teemed with clientele.  
Paternoster was the place to go for curious bookshops, pens, quills and writing parchment, where the musty smell of ancient tomes pervaded the air.  
Home of writers and readers alike. 

Although early spring, the weather had not yet recognised the month, remaining cold and damp. 

Things had been rather quiet of late. 

Nothing much of interest, and certainly nothing to sink ones teeth into, figuratively or literally!

Madame Vastra yawned expansively.

Seated in a cosy leather wing backed chair. Drawn close to the hearth. 

As a Silurian she often found it difficult to keep warm in this climate. 

But beggars couldn't be choosers. 

She had a happy and comfortable life here. Where she could be of use. 

Rising, she poked at the embers of the fire disconsolately with the iron poker. 

The room was a pleasant one. 

Upholstered sofas, thick, heavy damask curtains. A Persian carpet. An decorative ormolu vase, ornaments and knick-knacks arranged on small occasional tables.  
Several old and faded Daguerreotype photographs in filigree frames.  
The mantle draped with a lace cloth. Opaque globed gas lamps in all the rooms.  
Potted aspidistra in one corner.  


Congenial. Homely. 

If she could sometimes be of use to the local constabulary, both as a detective, and as a deterrent to would be criminals, then so be it.  
She'd received no complaints! 

Occasionally her manner of dealing with them might be somewhat unconventional, but the consensus was that the world was better off without such evil, and a blind eye turned.

Seating herself once more she picked up her copy of _The London Illustrated_ and began to idly peruse it.  
A particular headline caught her attention.....

_"Saturday February 28th 1888....._.

_Brutal stabbing in Spitalfields......"_

This in itself was not what drew Madame's attention. 

The East End of London was a violent and inhospitable place. Such attacks were frequent and almost considered the norm.  
The area was a known haunt for prostitution, drunkenness, muggings and beatings.  
This article, however, seemed somewhat different. 

_".........A thirty-eight year old widow, Mrs Annie Millwood, was admitted to Whitechapel workhouse suffering from stab wounds to the legs and lower abdomen._  
_The victim stated she was attacked by a man she didn't know, and gave a brief description, before she succumbed to her injuries and subsequently died......."_

A slight tap on the door. 

Jenny entered, carrying a tray of tea things. 

"My dear!" Vastra laid the newspaper aside, as her wife entered and placed down the tray. 

The young woman's hand trailed across the scaled cheek. Smiling at the feel of it beneath her fingers. Delighting in the slight intake of breath she caused as she caressed her loved one there. 

"What are you up to in here, sitting on top of the fire? Are you still cold?" She asked with concerned kindness. 

"Warmer for seeing you.....!" 

Came the reply. "......and warmer still when I've had a cup of this tea!" 

"Anything interesting in the paper! I declare it's been so quiet lately I feel like I've been asleep for a hundred years! Strax has taken to wandering the streets at closing time in the hope of seeing a fist fight!" 

A smile creased the green Reptilian visage. 

"As a matter of fact, I'd just spotted this......"

Vastra folded the paper back on itself and handed it over to her partner. 

Jenny's eyes scanned rapidly, then looked up. 

"Doesn't sound much different to what you might hear on any given day in that area....it's notorious......" 

Handing back the article, she poured the tea which had now brewed to just the right shade of brown, handing over the porcelain cup and saucer. 

"Did you read to the bottom of the piece......?" 

Jenny frowned. 

"I confess I didn't......" 

She picked up the newspaper again. 

_"Following on the heels of this assault, a second attack took place on March 28th, in Mile End._  
_Thirty-nine year old Ada Wilson, a dressmaker, was accosted on the doorstep of her home and stabbed in the throat with a clasp knife._

_She was, however, able to give a detailed description of her assailant._  
_A man of around thirty, of average height, with brown facial whiskers or moustache, well dressed in a long coat and light trousers and wearing a 'wide-awake' hat._  
_The description matches closely an earlier one, given by Mrs Millwood._

_In spite of the severity of the attack, Mrs Wilson is expected to make a full recovery......"_

Jenny Flint shook her head. 

"I can't see anything in it, my love. It's just your normal, average day in the East End......I hardly think it warrants investigation. I'm sure the police will soon have the perpetrator banged to rights....a smartly dressed man in that area will soon attract some notice. Although similar we don't even know for certain that the two attacks are in any way connected." 

Madame Vastra drained her cup, and sat back with a sigh.

"You're probably right. It's just me looking for something that isn't there! To counteract the boredom.....it can be so tedious here when nothing much is happening!" 

"Well, I know what will cheer you up.....how about we go to the Music Hall? I hear there's a jolly turn there tonight, Lottie Collins and sisters, with their skipping rope dance act!" 

The couple roared with laughter.


	2. Professor Smith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill has gone to The Doctor's office to hand in her essay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is by way of an introduction to the second set of characters. A scene setter, if you like, as the first chapter was for the other set of characters. 
> 
> T.Rex. Diamond Meadows.....from the album T.Rex (1970)

CHAPTER TWO. 

Bill knocked on the office door and waited. 

No sound. 

No Nardole. 

She entered, peering around the door jamb, scanning the empty room. 

"Heyloooo!" 

No answer. 

Bill loved the Professor's office. It was a cross between a study, a library and a sitting room.  
In a cosy, sepia kind of way. 

There was a lovely smell about the place. Books, furniture polish, and something citrusy she couldn't quite define. Something that made her skin tingle and the hair on the back of her neck stand up. 

"Doctor?"

No reply. 

His desk was full of papers. Essays to be marked. Sheets of equations and calculations which meant nothing to her. A bag of crisps, an apple core. 

Standing sentinel in the corner, The Tardis. 

She had been on a few trips with him now, but never would she get used to the wonder that was his Time Machine.  
It was both thrilling and frightening all at once. 

Just as she was deciding that perhaps he was lecturing elsewhere, and she would leave her completed essay on his desk,  
_"Einstein and the Theory of Relativity"......_  
.......there came, from inside the blue box, the sound of jangling chords. Strummed on the electric guitar. 

Bill Potts smiled to herself. 

_Such_ a rock star! 

She recognised the opening bars of _T.Rex....Diamond Meadows_......old school, but she knew it because one of her step-mum's numerous boyfriends had the vinyl album. 

Moving to the wooden door, she rapped hard with her knuckles.

Inside the music died away abruptly. 

His mobile expressive face appeared at the threshold. 

"Bill!!" He beamed, stepping back so she could enter. 

"Thought you were meant to be lecturing?" 

The guitar lay, now discarded, to one side. 

"Nah. It was cancelled. I was noodling." He replied sheepishly, skirting the console and then peering at her from behind the centre column, eyebrows raised comically, a slight smile playing across his features. 

His long fingers caressed the knobs and buttons beneath them almost with reverence. 

Nardole shuffled in, wearing a dressing gown and slippers, a mug of tea in each hand. 

He barely acknowledged her presence, so used was he now to seeing her there. 

"If you want tea, you'll have to make your own." He remarked stiffly. Setting a cup down beside The Doctors hand. "And there's no biscuits!" 

"It's okay. I'm fine!" Thrusting her hands into her pockets, Bill mounted the stairs and sidled along the bookcases, her eyes scanning the spines of each volume, before turning and leaning against the railing, surveying the beautiful room around and below her. 

Was it wrong that she felt so at home here?  
Her step-mum was a kind enough woman, if a little distant towards her adopted daughter, but she didn't really know Bill, or try to.  
Always feeling like a square peg in a round hole. 

Until now. 

Here in the Tardis she'd found a family. It was true that Nardole could be spiky and cross occasionally, but he could also be comical and light.  
He made her laugh.

Then there was The Doctor. 

What could she say about _him?_

Like no one she'd ever encountered before. 

Rage and fire, warmth and softness. All rolled into one.  
It was not by accident she'd described him as her grandad, on that fateful morning he'd helped her move her things into the rented house, because that's how she imagined a grandfather might be....a bit prickly, but friendly, protective.....nice.  
Yet, she didn't see him as that really.  
_His_ response to her epithet was incredulity, insisted he didn't look old enough.....and well, sometimes he was right, he didn't......and other times he looked so ancient she couldn't even comprehend it. 

Bill didn't really get men, generally. They were a conundrum. All testosterone and competitive. She much preferred women.   
The Doctor was different.  
Alien. 

It was true he _looked_ like a human man.....could act like one too on occasions; childish, trying to impress, to show off even, but when she looked at him closely she saw truth. 

Simply that. 

Truth.

Oh......and great wisdom......

......and an inherent kindness...... _so not just truth then......_

.....things she rarely saw in boys she met, or men.  
It wasn't a romantic thing.....lord no!  
She shuddered at the thought, as she processed skippingly along the Tardis mezzanine, gazing around her and marvelling.  
No, it was more an admiration, it was respect. A trust.  
Feeling comfortable with him, like she could happily give him a hug and it wouldn't be taken the wrong way, or perhaps scold him, or even tell him how fond she was of him.....of them both......her new Tardis family, and it wouldn't matter. 

Somehow there was an understanding. 

Acceptance. 

For whatever reason, The Doctor had seen something in _her_ too.

Bill decided it was best not to try to analyse it, it was not quantifiable. 

It just _WAS._

The Timelord was watching her now with some amusement, his head tilted curiously to one side, as she returned from her reveries to the present moment.  
He knew she tried to be all enigmatic.....but her expressions betrayed her every time. 

She turned away, her glance taking in the huge rotors above her head, with their Gallifreyan symbols etched upon them, eyes dancing with delight. 

"Magical isn't it?" He commented. 

Gripping the metal rail, she leaned herself back, still looking up, her face aglow with joy, a wide, toothy grin sweeping across her face. 

"It's _fabulous!"_ She breathed. "I'll never cease to think so......like a living thing.....and just so......so....." she struggled for a word. 

"Alien?" The Doctor suggested. 

"Yeah! That's it! Just so.....alien! I love it!" 

He chuckled, raising his head and addressing the entire room, arms waving to the sides as he spoke.

"You hear that?" He cried. "You have a fan, old girl!" 

Only a gentle thrum answered him. 

Seeing her hopeful, eager glance, he turned away. 

"No trip today though, I'm afraid." His voice dropped and became more melancholy. 

"Today Nardole is my conscience......and he says I need to be here, guarding the vault.....he's _such_ a killjoy!" 

The little bald companion huffed crossly. 

"Excuse me! But that's what you have me here for! You made a solemn oath! Don't forget my mandate.....from your wife, no less......"

"I know! I know!" The Timelord grunted, furrowing his brow. "You have the authority to kick my arse! No need to remind me....you can be awfully boring sometimes you know!" 

Bill decided to intervene. 

"Doctor, its fine. We don't need to go on a trip, we can just chill here, yeah?" 

In truth there was nothing she liked better. When she was with The Doctor and Nardole, she felt as if she'd come home. 

Almost before she had finished speaking, there came from the console, an insistent klaxon alarm.  
Nardole clamped his hands over his ears against the screaming sound, screwing his eyes shut. 

"Ohhhh! No!! I don't like it!" He wailed. 

Leaping into action, coat flying out behind him, the Doctor began frantically pressing buttons and pulling levers. 

"What's happening?" Bill cried, vaulting down the stairs. 

Behind them, the wooden doors slammed shut. The accelerator lever pulling down as if by an unseen hand. The central rotor starting to revolve, rising and falling with increasing rapidity. 

"Looks like the Tardis has an agenda of her own!" 

The Doctor cast a contrite glance at Nardole, and gave a helpless shrug. 

"Nothing to do with me......" He began. "I told you.....you don't fly the Tardis, you negotiate with her!" 

"Where the hell is she taking us?" Nardole grabbed the screen and swung it round to face him, his eyes tracking the flashing images there. 

"No idea!!! Exciting though......eh?" The Timelord's face was filled with boyish glee.


	3. Visit to Leman Street.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning in Paternoster Row. 
> 
> Jenny brings news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The descriptions, the streets as they were at the time, are all as accurate as I can make them.

CHAPTER THREE.  
VISIT TO LEMAN STREET.

A typical grey and dank London morning. 

The smoke curled from a thousand chimneys, black and sooty, coating all and sundry in an inky blanket. 

Madame Vastra was seated in a wide backed rattan chair, in her favourite place in the house. 

A small lean-to conservatory, filled with exotic plants from all corners of the world. Palms and ferns, orchids and succulents.  
It made her feel at home, or as much at home as a Silurian could be. 

Shiny green leaves, exquisite blooms, all proliferating in the artificial heat provided by a stove in the corner.  
In the high humidity the windows steamed up, running with condensation, giving the whole place a distinctly tropical feel. 

Strax was in the kitchen. 

She could hear his clattering about as he prepared breakfast. 

Stirring a large pot of porridge, like a cauldron. 

Jenny entered through the scullery door in a flurry. 

Shaking off her hood, showering rain drops everywhere. Under one arm in a string bag, she had a fresh loaf of newly baked bread. Under her cape, to keep it out of the rain.....a folded newspaper. 

Hurrying through to the back of the dwelling she called out.

"Dearest? Where are you?" 

Smoothing back her damp hair she trotted through, heels clipping on the flagstones, stopping only briefly to poke her little finger into the porridge pot, licking it, then smiling.

"You're becoming quite the chef, Strax." 

"Ha! If my people could see me now! A disgrace to the Sontaran Empire!" He retorted. 

"Nonsense! You enjoy it! Is Madame out back?" 

"She is! What's got you all excited?" He laid down his spoon, wiping his chubby hands on the apron he was wearing. 

"You'll get excited too....." Jenny replied breathlessly. "......there's been another one!" 

"Another one, what?" Vastra's voice came from the doorway. 

"Another murder.....it's in The Morning Post. Look!" 

The three gathered around the sturdy kitchen table, leaning over, as Madame flicked through the pages until she came to the article in question. She read aloud. 

_'3rd April 1888.....'_

"That's only six days since the Wilson attack......." Jenny chimed in. 

_"In the early hours of the morning of 3rd April, prostitute Emma Smith was viciously attacked by a gang at the Wentworth Lane junction of Osborn Street, the dirty, narrow entrance to Brick Lane, according to sources...."_ She read. 

"A gang? Weren't the previous attacks a single assailant?" Queried Strax. 

"Hush! Let me finish!" Madame hissed. 

_".....they robbed her of all the money she had, subjected her to a savage beating, thrusting a blunt object up inside her....."_

Jenny grimaced. 

"Good God!" She whispered. 

_"......she staggered back to her lodging house at 18, George Street and was taken by concerned neighbours to the London Hospital on Whitechapel Road. Although badly injured, she was able to tell the attending surgeon what had happened to her. However, peritonitis soon set in and she died the following morning at 9am. An inquest is to be held by Mr Wynne E Baxter at the nearby Coroners Office."_

Vastra straightened up, her hands on her hips. Green eyes glittering. 

"Well! What's our next move?" Jenny asked. 

"Take stun grenades and a triple neural paralyser and set up a trap in the area in question, blasting the worthless scum into oblivion?" Strax suggested, smacking his fist into his other palm. 

"Hmmm! That's an idea.....but I prefer a visit to Inspector Gregson.....to see what he has to say on the matter." His mistress replied. 

oOo

Out into the glassy streets. 

Clattering over the cobbles and into bustling Cheapside. 

Madame kept the blinds down in the carriage, only pulling them aside from time to time in order to peer out to ascertain their whereabouts.  
Jenny sat opposite her, deep in thought. 

From the buck-board outside they could hear Strax, thickly overcoated against the foul weather, urging the horse onwards as they merged into the maelstrom of carts, carriages and omnibuses, heading towards the East End. 

The streets of the City were teeming with humanity.  
All going about their business; street vendors, carters, barrow boys, flower sellers, match girls. 

_'The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker.'_

Gentleman bankers and stockbrokers. The 'Bobby' on the beat, walking in pairs, with helmet and truncheon. Uniform buttons shining. 

Hansom cabs, phaetons, open carriages, bicycles, not a single motorised vehicle as yet, all weaving in and out and around each other.  
Ragged boys and girls ran in and out of the traffic with buckets and hand brooms, collecting up the 'deposits', sometimes within inches of the carriage wheels. 

A melting pot. 

Drawing into the Commercial Road, Strax slowed the horse to a walk, as they stopped outside the Whitechapel Metropolitan Police Station, which was situated in Leman Street. 

The Sontaran tapped on the roof with his whip handle. 

"Madame! We're here!" He called. 

Before alighting Vastra pulled a thick black lace veil over her face.  
Stepping down, avoiding the puddles, Jenny's gloved hand in her own. 

They entered the grimy building together. 

Darkly stained walls, a strong smell of tobacco, and, for some reason.....cabbage.....oh, and urine. 

Shouts and calls and raucous singing from the numerous vagrants and drunks, both male and female, locked in the cells below. 

Jenny wrinkled her nose in distaste. 

They enquired politely for Inspector Gregson. 

"I'll show you through....." said the desk sergeant immediately, on hearing the Vastra name. "......the Inspector has someone with him at the moment, if you wouldn't mind waiting?" 

He lifted the desk hatch and ushered the two women through. 

"Follow me!" 

Down a dingy corridor, passed many identical doors. Until, at one end, a door with a frosted glass insert.  
A name plate above.  
The sergeant knocked lightly, and entered. 

From inside Vastra heard a voice she immediately recognised.


	4. It Begins.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The voice Vastra recognised is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the murder information is real.
> 
> Inspector Gregson is the character who appears in Deep Breath.
> 
> Frederick Abberline is well known to Ripperologists. The details of his character are real. He had been in his native West Country, but was recalled when the murders began because he knew the Shoreditch/Whitechapel area extremely well, the streets, the boarding houses, both criminals and victims alike. He usually knew where the blame lay when a crime was committed, through his network of somewhat dodgy confidantes.

CHAPTER FOUR. 

Two gentlemen, seated on opposing sides of a large desk, rose to their feet as Madame Vastra and Jenny were ushered into their presence. 

One, Inspector Gregson, was well known to both women, having been at the centre of their investigation into the sudden appearance of a rather large and extremely miffed Tyrannosaurus rex on the Thames some while ago, amongst other interesting cases they'd worked on together.  
The other was an old and trusted friend of the Silurian, whose voice it was that she immediately recognised. 

"Madame!" He said cordially, holding out a hand. 

Somewhat portly, aged around 45, a little shabby round the edges but sporting a fine set of moustachios and whiskers, the accent an unmistakeable soft West Country burr. 

"Inspector Abberline! We meet again." Vastra replied, taking the proffered hand and shaking firmly. 

"So, I'm guessing you've been called back to your old stomping ground." She continued, seating herself on the chair offered, and removing her heavy veil. 

It did not escape her notice that both men gave a slight intake of breath as she did so, but she declined to make comment. 

"Indeed!" Chimed in Gregson. "No one knows the area like Frederick Abberline." 

"So!" Jenny exclaimed. "I presume we're taking these knife attacks seriously then? 

Abberline rested his elbows on the desk, steepling his fingers together and tapping them against his chin thoughtfully. 

"I'm not sure that they aren't just random assaults, by opportune persons unknown, or that they are necessarily connected in any way.....particularly the Emma Smith case, which appears to be perpetrated by a gang....rather than a single assailant, or at least that was her statement before she succumbed. Brutal though....."

"And needing to be stopped I'd say!" Madame said quietly. 

"Well, we have some extra officers on the beat and we will make some inquiries....I'm confident we'll get to the bottom of it....and if we require your help ma'am.....be assured I'll be in touch." 

The two exchanged pleasantries with a slight bow, before Vastra and Jenny took their leave. 

_After they were gone......._

"I'm concerned about these murders Gregson......if we have more we could end up with a riot on our hands, anarchy even, people won't feel they can walk the streets unmolested or sleep safe in their beds. I think our green lizard friend's help may come in very handy....."

"Then let's hope there are no more.....and that, as we think, they are just isolated incidents. I'll admit I prefer to keep things in The Force unless absolutely necessary. That woman and her team scare the bejesus out of me!" 

oOo

_Bank Holiday Monday, 6th August 1888._

Martha Tabram, also known as Martha Turner was skint. Hadn't eaten all day.  
She desperately needed some rent money, so as not to be thrown out onto the street. 

With her friend Mary Ann, she left her lodging early in the evening, to solicit along the Whitechapel Road. 

As luck would have it the two ladies met a couple of willing guardsmen, a corporal and a private. Together the four embarked on a drinking spree in several of the pubs in the area. 

A warm summer night.  
The streets busy with punters and sellers alike. Where the price of a quick fumble in a quiet court somewhere meant the difference between eating or starving, having a bed for the night or sleeping in the gutter. 

The friends and their clients split into couples and went their separate ways. 

Prices having been agreed, Martha and her beau disappeared through the rather sinister arch leading into George Yard. 

This area was one of the most notorious in the district, but for a seasoned campaigner like Martha it offered a secluded, poorly lit corner in which to perform a sex act, known colloquially as a _'four penny knee trembler'._  
It was a poor area, on the left of which was a tenement building, occupied by those in the direst poverty.  
Martha had frequently used these stairwells. Which, when the lights were extinguished at 11pm, offered an almost impenetrable darkness, and minimised the chances of being disturbed. 

It was not until 5am when a water-labourer, on his way to work, found her body on that same stairwell, lying in a pool of her own blood. 

The attack on Martha Tabram had been a frenzied one. Her body peppered with multiple stab wounds. Some thirty-nine in total, mainly to her throat and lower abdomen.  
It was clear that two different blades had been used, a small pocket knife and a larger bayonet, it was not a pretty sight. 

oOo

The air was thick and thundery that Tuesday morning. Humid in the extreme. 

A sticky heat which made one perspire as soon as one moved. 

Madame Vastra, Jenny and Strax were seated in the parlour, having just finished breakfast.

The knock on the street door was loud and insistent. 

Strax rose and went to answer it. 

Showing the visitor through the hallway and into the pleasant reception room. 

"Why! Inspector Abberline! To what do we owe this pleasure.......?"


	5. Friends.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor, Bill and Nardole have landed. 
> 
> Where has the Tardis brought them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm slightly ambiguous as to where in the timeline of the Tenth series this story happens. 
> 
> It is obviously before the finale episodes and I think most probably follows after the 'Knock Knock' episode, and so before the Monks and the Doctor losing his sight. 
> 
> I don't think it necessarily matters but I know some people will want to know.

CHAPTER FIVE.  
FRIENDS. 

 

Bill was experiencing a slight case of nausea, as she did the very first time, when she was whirled to Australia in a matter of seconds. 

She knew of course, that the Tardis had a mind of Her own. Turning up in Regency London after being thousands of years in the future had been quite a surprise to say the least.  
This time, however, she was a little better prepared. 

The sensation of spiralling ceased with a slight whomph and a bell-like clang. 

All three took a collective deep breath. 

The Doctor's eyes were as hard as flint as he pulled the screen from Nardole's hands and scanned it briefly. 

Turning, he walked to the wooden doors, waving a hand behind him. 

"Stay there!" He ordered. Neither companion moved a muscle. 

Opening the portal, the Timelord first peered out, before taking a step outside. 

Rain. 

Torrential. 

A cobbled alleyway, narrow and dirty. 

He sucked on an index finger and held it aloft. 

"Hmmm!" He muttered, before coming back inside. 

Both Bill and Nardole looked at him expectantly. 

"Well?" They chorused in unison.

"Well what?" The Gallifreyan eyebrows furrowed. 

_"Where are we?"_ They both cried, as one. 

"Oh! Er.....London, The City......I'd say 1888, give or take a year......" 

"But why?" Asked Bill, voicing her thoughts aloud, rather than actually thinking about them. 

"Why indeed!" The Doctor replied. "The Old Girl has picked up on something, just as she did when we visited the Frost Fair......something alien.....I'm not sure what, but, hey.....that's half the fun." 

He gave a rather sharkish grin, showing his teeth. Bill found herself smiling back, Nardole however was not so keen. 

"So......here we are..... _again_......don't know why......or exactly when.....or what evil awaits......just brilliant! Lead me to it!" He said sulkily. 

"Nardole! So negative! Where's your sense of adventure? Of derring-do?" 

The little bald head puckered with consternation.

"It disappeared when you first broke your oath.....reneged on your word.......you made a promise.....!"

"Yes! And I have a time machine......back before tea time! Now go get changed! Oh, and you might need an umbrella!" 

Clapping his hands together he made for the door again. 

oOo

Fifteen minutes later the hapless trio sallied forth into the grimy street. 

The Doctor, dressed in his long coat, waistcoat and buttoned up shirt, attracted little attention. Seamlessly fitting into his surroundings somehow.  
Nardole emerged in full yellow oilskin mackintosh, matching sou'wester, and heavy boots. Looking somewhat like a small, round deep sea fisherman, fresh from his trawler.  
Bill wore suitable garb which she hoped befitted a smart young lady of the time.  
A dark maroon satin frock, with Bustle, corset beneath, leather gloves, and a full length travelling coat over the top of all.  
Her hair artfully arranged under a bonnet, the ribbon of which fastened beneath her chin. 

She looked up shyly as she caught The Doctor's admiring gaze. 

"Well! Look at you!" He said, holding out an elbow for her to take. 

"Not sure about the corset though!" She replied with a slight grimace, placing her hands on her own waist. "Can't breathe! Feels like I'm trussed up like a chicken!" 

"You'll do." He replied matter of factly, and set off, pulling her along at his side. Nardole trailed disconsolately a few steps behind. 

"Do you know where we are?" Bill asked, deftly avoiding a pile of horse manure as they crossed Ludgate Hill. 

"Told you....the City.....I'm very familiar with the area." Was the quick reply. 

He'd relinquished Bill's arm now so that she could concentrate fully on the unaccustomed long skirt, keeping it out of the dirt, holding it demurely with both hands, lifting it to display a pair of smart button sided leather boots and a finely turned ankle. 

The Doctor, striding out on his long legs, didn't seem to notice either of his associates as they trotted in his wake, trying to keep up. 

A sharp turn into Warwick Lane and the Timelord stopped so abruptly that they both barrelled into him.  
"Now what?" Challenged Nardole, pushing back his waterproof headgear, revealing his rain spattered spectacles. 

"Hmmm." Was the only answer, as the Doctor turned 360 degrees in the road, scanning about him. 

"You're lost.....aren't you?" Bill enquired. Trying to keep the mirth from her voice.

"Just getting my bearings......" Came the curt reply. " I think the Old Girl has landed a little off piste as it were.....we are further away than I thought." 

"Further away from what.....or where?" Bill examined the hem of her frock in dismay, as the rain water had now seeped upwards, almost to mid-shin. 

"Further away from where my friends live." He replied distractedly, turning around on the spot once more. 

"You have friends......here, Sir?" Asked Nardole, apparently confused. 

The Doctor turned on him with a furrowed brow. 

"Which surprises you most?" He snapped. "That I have friends? Or that they're here?" 

His companion shrugged noncommittally, declining to comment. 

Bill could see a potential altercation brewing and intervened.

"Can't we just go where ever it is we're going and get out of this blessed rain.....I'm soaked, and it's flipping cold!" She said, tugging the Timelord's sleeve. "You can go back and fetch the Tardis later....maybe bring the bloody thing closer.......yeah?" 

The cold pale eyes softened, as they looked down on her. 

"C'mon!" He cried, evidently reaching a decision. "This way!" 

Setting off again at a fast pace, his two friends followed in his wake. One chuckling to herself, the other grumbling as they sloshed through the puddles. 

It was not long after turning out onto the main thoroughfare once more, that they regained the correct route and could see ahead the ornate twin lanterns atop the stone capitals which comprised the West Front of Wren's great Cathedral. 

Walking directly towards it, the Doctor turned suddenly sharp left, skirting around the side of the vast edifice. Keeping the building to his right, lowering over them like a dark menacing shadow, the three entered a narrowish lane. 

"Here we are!" He declared. "This is it!" Halting in front of one of the houses. 

Tall and narrow, attached on both sides to a similar dwelling.  
Georgian, Bill guessed, looking up, at the square paned windows.  
Two floors above the street level, and a garret floor above that. 

The Doctor rapped firmly a few times using the brass knocker, which resembled a lions head with a ring in its mouth.  
Bill shuddered, she was reminded sharply of Ebeneezer Scrooge and the door knocker which turned into Marley's face in Dicken's _A Christmas Carol_.

Nothing quite prepared her however, for the sight which met her eyes when the portal was swung back. 

There, standing on the threshold, was what appeared to be a dwarf........or was he?  
Her eyes widened. A stifled _"oh!"_ of surprise leaving her. 

Not much more than four foot six in height, dressed somewhat comically in a black tailed jacket, wing collar and bow tie. His neck as wide as his head, skin a tanned brown, resembling a baked potato. 

"State your business or die, in the name of the Sontaran Empire!" He bellowed, threateningly. 

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?" The Doctor replied softly, a smile sweeping across his face. 

"Good grief! It's you!" The little man cried with recognition, taking a step backwards. 

"Come here Strax.....you old warrior you!!" 

Before he could protest, Strax was grabbed affectionately, held in a headlock, as knuckles were firmly rubbed across the top of his rounded dome of a head. 

"Doctor!" Came the muffed cry from within the folds of the Timelord's coat. "I'll thank you not to noogie me in front of assembled company.....it's most embarrassing!" 

Being duly released, amid stifled hilarity from both his companions, the three were ushered inside. 

The female occupants of the comfortable parlour looked up questioningly as the guests were shown in. 

Jenny, seeing who it was first, stood up and rushed to envelope the Doctor into a tight hug. Her eyes glistening, he gave an 'oof' of surprise as the air was squeezed from him. 

"Doctor!" She whispered, almost with reverence. "It's _so_ good to see you!" 

Vastra rose more sedately, coming forwards, her scaled hand held out. Instead of shaking it, the Timelord took it by the finger tips in the most courtly fashion, raising it to his lips. 

"Madame!" He said, smoothly, with a waggle of his eyebrows. 

If the Silurian was somewhat taken aback by his warm, almost flirtatious greeting, she hid it well. 

"And who have we here?" She responded warmly, pulling gently back, and turning to the remaining members of the party. 

Clapping his hands together, the Doctor grinned. 

"Madame Vastra! Jenny! Strax! Meet my friends, this is Bill....and Nardole."

Bill's jaw was agape, she'd met a puddle person, someone made apparently of wood, various assorted robots and a vast undersea creature ......but Humpty Dumpty and a lizard woman?  
This was a whole different ball game. 

Flustered, she introduced herself. 

Vastra smiled, showing her even teeth and pink tongue. 

"It's alright, my dear. You'll get used to it. Clara did!" She turned to the Doctor and gave a little smile, which her friend did not return.  
Letting it slide she focused her attention on Nardole. 

"Well met Sir! Any friend of the Doctor is a friend of ours." She said, holding out her hand again. 

Nardole took her fingers, holding them lightly and giving a rather formal bow. 

"Some of my best friends are greenish." He remarked, pointlessly.

Vastra laughed heartily, throwing back her head. 

"Clearly not human!" She chuckled. "But a loyal comrade, I can see." 

Again she turned to the Doctor, a twinkle in her beady eye. 

"I'm the trusty sidekick." Nardole replied importantly. "I'm supposed to keep him on the straight and narrow." He nodded towards the Doctor as he spoke. "It's an irksome task! But I'm committed! I'm doing it at the behest of his Wife!" 

The Timelord coloured slightly, looking down and shuffling his feet. 

"Well!" Vastra exclaimed, smiling at her friend's discomfiture. "This meeting calls for a celebration....." 

Seating herself, she motioned her guests to join her.

"......so, tell me Doctor.....what brings you, unlooked for, to our door this wet and gloomy day?"


	6. Tête à Tête.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madame Vastra and the Doctor talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> I thought it prudent to give a map here, to give the reader a sense of where they are in London and where the murders took place.

CHAPTER SIX.  
TÊTE À TÊTE.

Nardole, Bill, Jenny and Strax had disappeared into the kitchen, amid friendly chatter and the promise of tea and toasted crumpets. 

Madame closed the front parlour door silently behind them, seating herself quietly in an armchair on the opposite side of the cosy hearth to where the Doctor now sat. 

Long legs stretched out against the fender, warming the soles of his boots, the Timelord gazed into the fire thoughtfully, biting the side of his thumb. 

It was a while before she spoke. 

"It's good to see you Doctor." She said eventually, her voice soft and kindly. "And with new friends, I see?" 

Her eyes watched the face of her companion closely, waiting patiently for a reply. 

"Hmmm." The pale eyes flicked momentarily towards her's, then back to the flames, before responding. 

"Well.......Nardole......you could say I rescued.....or rather, almost rebuilt, him. He was travelling with River......"

Vastra's head was tilted to one side slightly, her face registering compassion and concern in equal measures, as she observed the waves of emotion wash over the masculine brow. 

"......she's gone. River. I doubt I'll see her again.....and I miss her." His hand strayed to his chest, clutching his waistcoat above his twin hearts momentarily, before releasing and interlacing the fingers of both hands beneath his chin. 

"And Clara?" His friend enquired gently. 

"She's gone too." 

The sentence hung in the air like a veil of sadness between them.

Leaving the chair, Vastra knelt at the Timelord's knee, taking his hands away from his face and encircling them with her own. 

"Can you tell me?" 

A heavy sigh.

"Nothing to tell. I mucked up. Went too far......" The glistening eyes that fastened on Madame's seemed so far away that it made the Silurian wonder just how deeply these losses had effected him. 

"She's not.........?" She hardly dared ask the question. 

"No. But she might as well be. Caught between two heartbeats. Living and yet not. Lost to me at any rate. She's travelling......now......with an immortal......back to Gallifrey, the long way round, another of my bloody stupid mistakes!" He gave a strangled laugh.  
"She thinks I don't remember her, but I do. Every bit. I was an idiot. She grew reckless......but I still had a duty of care.......  
It's a long story......perhaps not for today......." 

The sorrowful expression was pleading now, and Vastra instinctively knew.....

 _'It's painful. Please don't ask me any more.....'_ His mind seemed to be begging. 

"So! Bill? She seems like a bright young thing?" The alien woman changed the subject, smiling, releasing his hands and sitting back on her heels. 

"One of my students!" He gave a slight grin in return, as he saw the incredulous expression pass over the scaly face. 

"Yes! I know it sounds crazy. I'm a professor now, at the University, have been for fifty years. In voluntary stasis. Guarding......guardi.......fulfilling an oath......but I got bored."  
The tone had strengthened imperceptibly, the red firelight dancing in the ancient, yet somehow young eyes.  
"She wasn't originally a student, she was serving chips......but there was something......I saw _something_......." The voice tailed off, staring into the embers again. 

"Something of the stars perhaps?" Vastra remarked, rising and returning to her seat. 

"Yes! Just that! She caught my attention.....seemingly quite ordinary......feet on the ground.....and yet not. She's rather........I dunno.....special." He finished lamely with a shrug. 

"Well, I'm pleased you have someone. It's not good for you to be alone for too long." 

Reaching for a crystal decanter on a small circular table at her side, Vastra poured two schooners of amber sherry. Handing one to her guest, before seating herself again. 

"Now then! You must tell me what brings you here. Because I'm certain this is not simply a social visit!" 

The Doctor twirled the short stem of the glass between his long fingers, staring at the golden liquid within, before taking a sip, nodding appreciatively then setting it aside. 

"It was the Tardis." He replied. "She brought us here. I had little or nothing to do with it. She picked up on something. It showed up on the screen. A spike of alien energy. One that most definitely shouldn't be there! It centred around the East End. Yet the Old Girl deposited us in your neighbourhood instead. So I'm guessing we were dragged here to you for a very good reason. Anything weird going on?" 

"As a matter of fact there is! Would you care to see?" 

Over to one side of the room was an easel with a blackboard resting upon it. 

Madame Vastra turned it away from the wall. 

Fastened there was a map. Marked with drawing pins and strands of red wool. 

The Timelord eyes scanned it briefly, before turning to his friend, eyebrows raised questioningly. 

"Murders!" The Silurian stated bluntly. "Nasty ones too. Inspector Abberline has been called back to investigate with Gregson, he has requested our assistance." 

"You'd better fill me in with the gory details." The Doctor murmured, with a wrinkle of his nose. 

oOo

The silence which followed Madame Vastra's exposition was thick with the pregnant pause of shock at the revelations.  
The detached manner with which the woman divulged the facts did not go unnoticed, but this was a Silurian, her way of dealing with such atrocities was quite different from that of his human friends, he soon realised. 

The Doctor listened without interruption. His eyes closed throughout. Fingers steepled against his mouth. Pulling a face from time to time, wrinkling his nose in horror or disgust, or sympathy as the full details were explained to him.  
From time to time Madame wondered if he was not actually asleep, but when she paused in her narrative, his eyes snapped open......

"......since Martha Tabram there have been more. These, much more recent, although we are not sure of the connection. The Police are at a complete loss.  
First, Mary Nichols, her throat slashed in Buck's Row on 31st August. Then Annie Chapman on the night of Friday/Saturday September 8th.......in Hanbury Street.......horribly mutilated with her throat cut......"

"I think I can fill in some more......the names are familiar......" The Timelord interjected, his voice even and quiet. ".......Elizabeth Stride, Catherine Eddowes....on the same night I believe.......Mary Kelly......."

His companion gaped in disbelief. 

"But how......?" 

"They are well known historical facts. The murders known as 'The Ripper Murders'. Perpetrated by an unknown assailant dubbed Jack the Ripper. I knew as soon as you mentioned Abberline. The name is synonymous with the Ripper case. The murderer was never caught." 

"Then perhaps that is why you were brought here......? You mentioned a Mary Kelly.....as yet there has been no Mary Kelly......perhaps we may prevent this occurrence......? Her life may be important in some way.....maybe the Tardis picked up on that? _'Alien spike'_ you said.......so not the work of a human you're thinking?" 

The Doctor rose from his armchair with a suddenness which made his friend jump.

Pacing. Animated. 

Hands clasped behind his back. 

"I'll tell you what I think! I think I don't know what to think! I _think_ it's time to look at these murders in a new light. I _think_ we should get together and do some investigating. We must examine the possible suspects. I'm not sure we can prevent more killing, changing what is already well documented could prove......tricky......but if we can get to the bottom of the case we may be able to find the reason behind it and find a solution. We must at least try." 

The face that turned to her was eager, pinched, etched with lines of concern. 

"So you don't believe, as the Police do, that this is just some local depraved individual with a vendetta against ladies who walk the streets for a living?" Enquired Vastra, moving to his side. 

"Not for one moment!" 

"Well then!" She declared. "I'm most glad to have you on board Doctor. We'll make a formidable team! Where to start though.....that's the question?" 

"Oh, no question at all......Buck's Row I _think!"_


	7. Bucks Row.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang begin their investigations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is obviously an awful lot more in the way of back story and evidence in the case of Mary Nichols and the other Ripper victims and I'm only using a very small snapshot of it for the purposes of this narrative.   
> I'm not out to write a definitive Ripper encyclopaedia, it's just part of the story, so I hope you'll forgive me for that. The information I DO include is all accurate though, and also the descriptions of the area as it was at the time.

CHAPTER SEVEN.  
BUCK'S ROW. 

Squashed into the carriage, they rattled along, like sardines in a tin. 

The Doctor and Vastra, side by side, knee to knee with Jenny and Bill, with Nardole sandwiched between them. 

His shoulders were hunched close to his neck, hands resting on his thighs, a pained expression on his face. 

Madame, veiled, rode in silence, as did her Timelord companion, the other three however were far more animated.  
Bill was peering out, fascinated by all around her, Jenny indicating certain points of interest as they passed by.  
Nardole just moaned. 

"Why do I have to sit this side?" 

"I hate travelling backwards!" 

"If I'm sick, it'll be messy in this confined space you know!" 

Eventually The Doctor turned to him. 

"Do you want to swap sides? Would that make you shut up?" 

Nardole nodded eagerly. 

There then began a undignified scuffle.  
It was impossible to stand inside the cramped coach, so all movement was accomplished bent almost double.  
Someone trod on Bill's toes.  
"Ow! Crikey! That hurt!"  
The carriage jolted, shooting the little bald man into Jenny's lap.  
She gave an 'oof' of surprise, as she was crushed beneath his weight.  
"You ain't no featherlight y'know....gerroff!" She gasped, pushing him upright again, as he and The Doctor performed a rather ungentlemanly cuddle, in order to shuffle each other round. 

"Ah! That's better!" Nardole beamed happily, pushing his dislodged specs up his nose, spreading himself out on the forward facing bench seat, his hands folded in his lap contentedly.  
The mighty Timelord, now seated in the centre of the two women, his legs folded up close to his body through lack of room, heaved an ignominious sigh, and crossed his arms high on his chest. 

"Happy now?" He snapped. 

"Very, thank you!" Came the reply. 

Madame Vastra watched all this shenanigans in amused silence, before commenting. 

"Not far now." 

oOo

The bright opulence of the City faded with each mile they travelled East.  
Houses grew closer together, increasingly grimy and rundown.  
Even the people seemed to become more base and dirty. 

Turning off the main Whitechapel thoroughfare, the carriage passed the London Hospital on the right, before entering a small court leading into the Row itself. 

The Doctor was first to alight. Smoothing his crumpled coat and staring around him, as if getting his bearings, running a hand distractedly through his steel grey locks. The others tumbled out onto the kerb in an unruly heap. Only Madame retained any vestige of dignity. 

Narrow, cobbled. Like most of the streets here.  
The houses forming a closely built terrace. Each with a front door opening directly onto the pavement, one window beside and two windows above.  
Dark, dingy and caked with a sooty residue. 

Strax tethered the horse to a convenient lamppost, and together they walked towards the large red and white brick Board School which stood on the corner at the road junction.  
Opposite the row of houses was a series of imposing storage buildings and warehouses, which lined that side of the street.  
Vastra and The Doctor walked side by side, glancing around them, taking in every entrance, every nook and cranny, until her hand on his arm made the Timelord come to a halt. 

"This is it." The Silurian said quietly. "This is where she lay."

Street lighting here was minimal, the light fading even now as evening drew on.  
They found themselves standing in front of a solid wooden gateway, leading to a small yard beyond. 

"Two workers found her, but left the scene, meaning to tell the first constable they encountered. Neither man really noticed her injuries, only that her skirts were bundled up. _They_ were only discovered when the beat policeman, Constable Neil, entered the Row moments later on his usual round." 

"How often did he make the circuit?" Asked the Doctor thoughtfully, his eyes scanning the ground. 

"Around every 'alf hour. " Jenny interposed. "Apparently she was still warm. It was the Bobby who called the local Doctor......Llewelyn......'e examined her, and found her throat was cut so deep, almost severing 'er 'ead." 

Bill grimaced, giving a shiver. 

"Did they take the poor woman away?" She enquired. 

"To the local mortuary, it was there they found her abdomen had also been slashed, as far up as the breastbone." 

From his back pocket The Doctor took his sonic screwdriver, fiddling with its settings, then sweeping the ground at his feet in low arcs, before raising it to his face, checking the readings, and giving a disgruntled 'humph'. 

"Anything?" Nardole peered at the device over the top of his glasses. 

Madame Vastra bent down and touched the pavement briefly, her tongue flicking out, seemingly tasting the air. 

"Not much......" The Timelord replied ".....the tiniest residue of blood.....but the kerb has been washed down and scrubbed, I wouldn't expect there to be much to see or to pick up.......any ideas on suspects?" 

"Nothing much to go on." Strax interjected. "We made some polite inquiries. No one saw anything.  
There's a horse slaughter yard adjacent, open all night, they heard not so much as a dickie bird. I suggested we tried torture the Sontaran way to extract information, but it didn't go down too well....."

Vastra frowned her amusement, in spite of the gruesomeness of the subject. 

"......Mary was apparently turned away from a lodging house nearby earlier, because she didn't have the fourpence required for a bed......saying she'd soon have the money.....a local shop keeper saw her pass by, apparently the worse for drink, around half two, that was the last time she was seen alive." 

"So a small window of around an hour.....hour and a half at most....." The Doctor mused. "Between leaving the doss house, being seen by the grocers shop at roughly 2.30am.......then the body being discovered around 3.40am by the two labourers......"

He turned and glanced at the houses opposite. 

"......and not one of the occupants here heard anything? In spite of their windows overlooking the scene?" He pointed upwards to the overlooking cottages. 

"They were all interviewed by Abberline or his colleagues, as was the Keeper at the Board School. Nor the constable on duty at the Great Eastern Railway yard nearby, who was only some fifty yards away from where the body lay." 

oOo

Taking Jenny's arm, Vastra wandered up the street, pausing to look this way and that.

"The perpetrator was ruthless and efficient, he must have passed this way, out into the Whitechapel Road....it's always thronged with people, even at the early hour.....he'd just melt away. No one the wiser." She concluded sadly. 

"But, hang on a mo......." Bill was following behind as they moved towards the road junction.  
"......he must have had blood all over him.......a wound as deep as that......almost cut her throat to the spine?.....I mean.....I'm no expert, but surely there'd have been blood everywhere? Would no one notice?" 

"Probably not. Don't forget, the Slaughter yard......horses bleed too.....he wouldn't have attracted that much attention." Jenny commented. "He'd 'a just been assumed to be from there I'm guessing." 

"The newspaper cited local gangs.......linking the killing to Martha Tabram and those that went before, the Police tried to put up a reward for the capture of this group of cutthroats, but as yet, nothing has come of it." 

It began to drizzle with rain. 

Madame Vastra glanced at a fob watch attached to her gown. 

"There's nothing more to see here. I suggest we return to Paternoster Row. Sleep on it. Start again at Hanbury Street tomorrow morning." 

"I agree." The Doctor replied shortly. "You three can take the carriage back. I'll follow later.....Bill! Nardole! With me!" 

"Where are you going?" Asked Madame quietly. 

"Oh, just for a little walk.....scout round, you know.....lie of the land and all that!" 

The Silurian huffed slightly.

"Well don't get into any trouble.....we need you on this Doctor......it's important." 

The Doctor gave an injured raise of his sharp eyebrows. 

"Trouble? _Me?"_ He scoffed. "Perish the thought!" 

It was several hours before the Tardis materialised in the mews behind the house in Paternoster Row.  
As the three friends left it to walk into the house, whose door was held open for them by Jenny Flint, no one noticed the screen on the console.  
Flashing insistently. 

A map of old London.  
Red indicator blinking on and off.....and the words.....

_"Warning! Life form detected......."_


	8. Hanbury Street.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang arrive at the site of the second murder.

CHAPTER EIGHT.  
HANBURY STREET.

The Doctor showed a distinct reticence in revealing either where he had been that evening or what, if anything, he had discovered. 

The offer of a bed was politely declined. 

"I don't need a room to not be awake in!" He clarified firmly.

This statement caused Madame Vastra to smile wryly, remembering when she had first encountered this man with his new face, and the repercussions thereof.  
So different from his previous incarnation. 

Nardole, who seemed devoted to his _'sir'_ also refused a room, trailing outside in his master's wake, into the now repositioned Tardis. 

Watching them from behind the lace curtain, the Silurian mused that she hadn't quite worked out the relationship between the Timelord and his rather comical looking alien companion. 

The word _'sidekick'_ seemed insufficient. _'Friend'_ , equally as inadequate. It seemed so much more than that; a strong and established bond.  
One that rose perhaps, she concluded, from the mutual love of the woman River Song, who had brought them together, for better or worse. 

Bill suddenly appeared at her elbow, peering out into the mews. 

"What was he looking for.....when you left us?" Vastra enquired. 

"Dunno!" The young woman shrugged. "Never said." 

Her face registered admiration, tempered with concern, the bright chocolate brown eyes narrowed slightly as she watched the two enter the Time Machine and the door close behind them. 

"He's an enigma.....I'm only just learning about him. He's so many things, y'know?" 

Her glance strayed to the marine irises of the lizard woman. 

"Oh yes! I know well enough! The Doctor is so many things, but most of all, he's _Hope_. Hope for us all." 

Their gaze locked, neither flinching, neither pulling away.  
Bill Potts was not afraid but she had the impression she was being examined, without a word being spoken. 

When she finally drew back, her head ached and she felt very tired. 

She yawned cavernously. 

"If the offer of a bed is still on the table, I'll take it.....the Tardis is all very well, but you can't beat a proper bed.....and I'm not fussed about sharing with two blokes."

"Of course, my dear." Madame seemed to soften, her steely stare becoming less dangerous. 

"You'd be most welcome to join us....." 

There was a certain mischievous glint in the eye.....was she flirting? 

Bill was about to respond when a voice sounded close behind. 

"Oi! You! Married!" Jenny was there, hands on hips, her scolding expression as she eyed her partner, showing she was amused at the same time. 

If it were possible for a Silurian to blush then Bill felt sure the alien woman would have done so.  
Vastra's laugh was a peel of merriment. 

"I'm only teasing! Jenny will show you where you are to sleep!" She smiled. "Now run along, there's much work to do tomorrow." 

Bill followed Miss Flint up the stairs.

"Is she always like that?" She queried. 

Jenny grinned. 

"She thinks she's making me jealous, but I know her far too well!" 

"So you're a coup.....? You and she......?" 

A warm smile answered her. 

"We are wife and wife, yes! I love her......I know what you're going to say...... _'but she's a lizard'_......well, so what? One day you'll find a young man, and you won't care what he looks like, you'll just know he's the one." 

"Actually......I'm not into fellas......" Bill began. "I only really go for girls......" 

They reached the door of a pleasant room. 

"Well, you'll find no judgement here!" She replied, earnestly. "And don't be afraid of Madame, she comes the old _'school ma'am'_ occasionally, but she's been around an awfully long time, she don't mean nothin'."

oOo

It was early. 

A thin watery autumn sun painted the drab buildings with a golden light. 

The group had arranged to meet the Inspector here, but there was no sign of him as yet.

Hanbury Street was a turning off the Commercial Road at the back of the old Spitalfields Market.  
It formed a conduit between that street and Brick Lane.  
A busier, longer and wider thoroughfare than Bucks Row. 

It contained a mixture of tenement houses and small shops, most possessing a dwelling above, each premises with a side alley leading to a closed, paved yard at the back.  
The wooden paling fences backed onto another street and the Black Eagle Brewery, the beery aroma from which pervaded the air. 

Whilst the others wandered along the pavement, awaiting the arrival of Abberline, they noted each doorway, entrance and gate.  
Jenny and the Doctor paused outside number 29. 

"I think this is the one." The young woman whispered, indicating the rusty doorway. 

The side passageway was only wide enough for one to walk at a time, so narrow in fact that the Doctor's shoulders barely fitted through.  
Dark and dingy and smelling strongly of urine, they emerged into the back yard with their noses wrinkled. 

Two stone steps led down from the rear exit which lead directly from the street, and stood ajar at most times during the day and night for free access, since the occupants tended to work odd shifts, and consequently came and went at all hours.  
There was another entrance to the left which lead down into the cellar and workshops. 

Folding back the loose sleeve of her coat, Jenny revealed what appeared to be a long leather gauntlet, fingerless, but studded with circuitry, dials and buttons.  
She swept her arm across the courtyard carefully, to accompanying beeping noises.

"Anything interesting?" The Doctor asked. 

"Nothing! It's all clean as a whistle!" 

Eyes roving around the area, the Timelord moved to the fence, placing the fingers of both hands over the palings. He peered over into the identical yard next door. 

"Probably escaped that way." Said a gruff voice behind him. 

Turning, the Doctor beheld the fine dark whiskers of the Inspector, whose thumbs rested rakishly in his waistcoat pockets. 

"Hmmm." Was his only response. 

Pushing his round domed hat to the back of his head, Frederick Abberline first looked the Gallifreyan up and down, taking in the boots, slim cut trousers, waistcoat, buttoned white shirt and long frock coat.  
Seemingly making up his mind, he extended a calloused hand.  
The two shook warmly.

"Welcome aboard Doctor. Madame is well known to me, she tells me you are to be trusted, and that you can help.....and God knows we could do with it!" 

Stepping aside, he indicated the small space behind the alley door. 

"She lay here." He said quietly. "In a terrible state Sir, it was the work of a monster, or a lunatic.....her throat cut twice, deep.......practically eviscerated, disembowelled, it was horrific to see......oh, and her womb was entirely removed." 

The Timelord raised his eyebrows before feeling a light touch on his sleeve from Jenny, who stood ashen faced beside him.  
With kind eyes, he reached across and patted her hand comfortingly. 

"Timings?" He asked, with a rasp. 

The policeman reached for his pocket watch.

"Last definite sighting 05.30 by Elizabeth Long, a woman who knew her quite well. Found by elderly resident of the tenement, a John Davis, a little before six, gave the old boy quite a turn, I can tell you." 

"So a very small window yet again....between being seen alive, and found dead." He observed, scratching his head. "Nichols no more than an hour, Chapman possibly as little as 25 minutes." 

"Whoever he is....he has to be local, surely." Jenny remarked. "He comes and goes and is seemingly invisible. No one takes a blind bit of notice of him.....so he must fit in......" 

"A leather apron was found in the corner over there." The Inspector said, indicating the spot.  
"The bloody press got hold of the information somehow and almost started a riot......never mind that it belonged to John Pizar, who lives here! I had to arrest the poor bugger for his own safety. I've had several mobs and incidents of unrest......ostensibly because the aprons are worn by the shoe and slipper makers.....who are mainly Jewish.....so I've got a damn witch hunt on my hands now." 

"I feel for you Mr Abberline, truly.  
Now! If it's all the same to you, I'd like to see where the other two women were killed. I need to have it all straight in my head......the area, the surroundings, as much information as you can give me......then I think a visit to the mortuary would be in order." 

oOo

Emerging back onto the street, the little group met Bill and Vastra who were patiently waiting by the kerb.

"Where are the other two?" The Doctor asked with a frown.

"They've gone to the _'Ten Bells'_ pub round the corner for a pint!" Bill replied apologetically. "Apparently the victim used to drink there......?"

"Typical! An extremely important murder investigation, perpetrated by God knows who or what.....and Nardole goes in search of beer!" 

Vastra smiled. 

"Don't be too hard on them, I think the idea is to mingle with the locals and ask some discreet questions." 

"Mingle? _Mingle?"_ The Timelord scoffed. "Have you seen Strax and Nardole??? Tweedledum and Tweedledee!! No one is going to tell them anything! I mean.....would _you_ trust them?" 

His large hands flapped in exasperation. 

"I'll go and fetch them.....follow on behind......" 

Before he could answer Madame walked briskly away, pulling her veil down over her face. 

"Well ladies!" The Doctor spun round to Jenny and Bill. "Looks like we're a threesome!" 

"In your ruddy dreams!" Bill laughed, giving his arm a playful punch. 

The Timelord expression registered 'scandalised', it was all Jenny could do to stifle a giggle herself.

"We'll leave the carriage for the others, catch the omnibus.....it's not far." She chuckled. "Come on!"


	9. Double Trouble.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill wakes in a comfortable bed. 
> 
> She is thinking about the events of the day before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of flipping around here, which I hope you can follow, which begins with Bill and her thoughts whilst in her bedroom in Paternoster Row. 
> 
> She is thinking back to the events of the previous day. 
> 
> The double murder night actually happened. The events and places described are real. Israel Schwartz was a real witness and what he tells the Gang is pretty much what he saw. The fact that no one really took him seriously is odd, I'm not sure the police believed in the second man or if they did, they either ignored or eliminated him.  
> 

CHAPTER NINE.  
DOUBLE TROUBLE. 

Bill Potts lay in the particularly comfortable and very squishy bed. 

It was like lying on a cloud. She wasn't sure what the mattress stuffing was made of but it sure wasn't posture springing! 

Her thoughts swirled. 

At times like this she still couldn't believe the events around her were real. At each moment of waking she fully expected to find herself in her narrow single bed in her old room, in the flat she shared with her foster mum.  
Rising to an insistent alarm, to head off and serve chips. 

So much had happened to her. 

It was like a crazy dream. 

Her eyes scanned the ceiling above her head. Ornate plasterwork.....no artex here!  
Cornice, a decorative central light fitting with four gas lamps, topped with opaque globes. There was a large spider's web across one corner, the occupant being one with long spindly legs. 

Never would she lose the wonder of the first moment she stepped inside the Tardis.  
She could feel the thrill even now. 

Since then, the things she'd seen and done were enough to almost blow her mind.  
Whisked into the far future.....when in her real life she would long ago have crumbled to dust......she now knew that eventually the Earth would wither and fade, it's surviving occupants seeking new worlds.  
Then, just as effortlessly into the past. The sights, the smells, living history, in all its astonishing techicolour.  
Now, she was actually in _Victorian_ London. 

Queen Victoria was on the throne.  
Rudimentary cars had only recently been invented. The mechanics of flight were just beginning to be explored. Two World Wars were still far in the future. Man walking on the moon, just a pipe dream.

It was tough to get her head around.....

.......then there was The Doctor. 

This strange, marvellous, alien being. Impossibly old, and yet still learning.  
Brave, foolhardy, sometimes almost childlike.  
An unfathomable conundrum. 

Danger followed him.  
Fear, heartbreak, sadness and joy. 

It frightened her, and yet drew her closer. 

Sometimes she looked into those blue green eyes and the depths of them seemed bottomless. 

So much carried within. 

Always he seemed to try to see the best in people.  
Save them......  
........either from others or from themselves. 

He didn't always succeed. 

Astonishingly clever. She couldn't even begin to imagine the vast knowledge he held inside. 

Yet ever the thing that most shone through was the compassion.  
Particularly for the most low, the downtrodden, the enslaved, the poorest and deprived. 

What was it he'd said? 

"The value you place on a life......" 

How those words echoed! 

Profound. Borne of centuries of bitter experience. Countless clashes with tyrants, dictators, megalomaniacs and bullies. 

Just trying to be kind. 

Bill yawned.  
Turned over. 

Just a few more minutes, then she'd get up. 

She dozed fitfully. 

Yesterday had been a very long day........

oOo

The omnibus was an experience in itself. 

Taller than it was wide, it seemed so unstable. Particularly when packed tight with passengers. 

"Should have taken a Hansom." The Doctor huffed. 

"You can't fit four in a cab!" Jenny countered. "Anyway, this way, you get to see life!" 

They'd climbed the curved stair to the upper deck. Open to the elements. Fortunately it wasn't raining.  
Drawn by a pair of equally matched horses, the whole thing clattered in and out of the traffic at what seemed like a fair lick.  
The Doctor and Bill perched upfront, Jenny and Abberline behind, next to a lady carrying a basket of lavender bunches, the smell of which was at least pleasant. 

After no more than ten minutes they reached their destination, and alighted on the corner of Berner Street and Fairclough Street. 

Inspector Abberline led his three compatriots a few doors along, stopping between numbers 40 and 42, where there were a pair of wooden gates and a narrow entrance into Dutfield's Yard. 

The cobbled yard was only the width of a cart. Closed off at the bottom end, where there was a working forge. 

"At night it's impossibly dark here." He commented, swinging the gates back and entering. 

"The night of 30th September, the murder of Elizabeth Stride is most interesting." He continued. "Because it's the one for which we have the most evidence, the best witness statements and the nearest we've come to capturing this fiend." 

The Doctor poked his long beaky nose into every corner.

"No escape if you're cornered.....a dangerous choice of killing spot....." He muttered. 

"And it was _almost_ his undoing......he was seen.......moments before the body was discovered.  
The carter tried to drive his horse through the entrance, and it shied away to the side, refusing to go further. I think the assailant was hiding in the shadows at that very moment. He'd been disturbed. Hence the lack of mutilation injuries. The throat had been cut, but that was all.  
The driver even struck a match, so as to more clearly see what lay in front of him.....but sadly his actions then gave the killer a chance to escape." 

"He ran into the street to alert passersby?" Asked the Doctor. 

"No. He went inside the Working Men's Club over there to get help." Abberline replied, pointing off to the side. 

"Damn!" The Timelord expostulated. 

"But Liz Stride was seen several times, and we have quite good descriptions, the most interesting information was from a Jewish gentleman who lives nearby. Israel Schwartz. You might like to speak with him." 

"I most certainly would!" Having seen enough, the Timelord returned to the street. "So just to get my timings here......when was she last seen alive and the body found?" 

"Schwartz swears to seeing her at 12.45am. The carter turned into the yard at 1." 

"Good grief!" Jenny exclaimed. "And she was with a man when Schwartz saw her?" 

"Yes, there was a bit of a scuffle, Israel thought it was a domestic, and hurried on by." Abberline closed the gates to behind him. 

oOo

The home of Israel Schwartz was poor indeed.  
No more than a grubby room in a crowded tenement, of which there were many in the area.  
A fusty bed in the corner, a table and two chairs, and little else. 

A Hungarian Jew, Schwartz was extremely nervous when the four turned up at his door. 

Looking from one to the other of the two women, his gaze lingering on Bill for a few seconds longer, before turning to the Inspector and his tall, silver haired, rather imposing colleague. 

The Doctor's face was impassive, his eyes soft, voice likewise. Motioning to the poor man to seat himself on the bed, the Timelord pulled up a chair. 

"Now, Sir, you are not in any trouble......I know you have been very helpful to the Police here....."  
He began, glancing back at Abberline. "But I'd like you to tell me exactly what you saw that night. Take your time, and remember, any little detail you can recall could be vitally important." 

Swallowing heavily, the man began to speak, his accent guttural and sometimes difficult to understand. 

"I was merely passing." He bleated, almost apologetically. "A man was walking ahead of me.....he stopped to talk to the woman, she was already there, leaning against Dutfield's gate." 

"Can you describe him to me......try to imagine you are there now, try to be as detailed as possible." The Doctor's tone remained gentle and calm. 

Schwartz closed his eyes for a moment, then continued to speak. 

"It was dark! He was around five five.....five six.....slim build, I'd say around 30. He had dark hair, a fair complexion and a brown 'tache. He was pretty broad shouldered I recall." 

"And his clothes?" Jenny crouched at the man's knee. "What was he wearing, Sir?" 

"He was smart. Well turned out. Not shabby. A dark suit. Starched white cuffs I'm sure. That's all I remember, because just then he tried to pull the woman into the street, she protested, but he spun her round and she went down on the pavement, with a sort of scream.  
I thought I was witnessing a domestic.....as I told the officer.......but then he spots me.....as I crosses the road to avoid them.....I didn't want no trouble Sir, Miss.......but then I sees the second fellow, smoking a pipe.....just standing there like, watching......as I hurries by, the gentleman with the woman calls out......'Lipski' and the man with the pipe peels away from the wall and starts follering me! I was that scared.....I ran......fast as ever I could, and I lost him, near the railway arches." 

The Doctor frowned. 

"A second man? Can you describe him?" 

"He was about 35.....tall.....not much under six foot I reckon. Fresh complexion, light brown hair, moustache and he wore a dark overcoat with an old, black, hard felt hat. Quite smartish though."

"Lipski?" Asked Bill. "What does that mean?" 

"Lipski was Israel Lipski, a convicted murderer." The inspector responded. "He was executed for the killing of a young woman, hanged in fact. But it all left a bitter taste in the mouth. It happened not far from where this incident took place. I think calling out the name was a ethnic slur, against Jews generally. The trial of Lipski was considered to be tarnished by blatant Anti-Semitism." 

oOo

"So, a possible accomplice." Jenny observed as they left the boarding house. 

"First we've heard of it though eh?" Put in Bill. 

The Doctor was silent. 

"Eh Doctor?" She pushed. 

"Would it sound like a terrible cliche to say, 'I really don't like the sound of this'?" He said, thoughtfully. "Because I really don't!" 

They were walking briskly now, out onto Commercial Road, as far as it's junction with Whitechapel Road, then along, heading in towards the City.  
After travelling almost a mile, the quartet reached the large junction of Aldgate, Leadenhall Street and Fenchurch Street, here they halted once more, as Frederick Abberline pointed out the small side turning into Mitre Square. 

A claustrophobic, enclosed space, looming warehouses on three sides. Some uninhabited houses and a shop on the south west corner.  
Bill and Jenny's heels clipped and echoed on the cobbles. 

"Catherine Eddowes was found here. Throat cut. Body ripped open. Her uterus and one kidney missing. Quite horrific." Abberline indicated the spot where the body was found.  
"Police Constable Watkins with a lantern passed through at 01.30 and saw nothing. Five minutes later she was seen, probably moments before her demise, by three men walking home from a Club nearby. She was talking to a man. One of the chaps identified her by her clothing, as they didn't see her face. Description of the man she was with was similar to that which Schwartz gave, only differing in a couple of small details.  
She was found at 01.44 by PC Watkins as he made his next circuit." 

None of the three commented. Such was the sombre mood which now enveloped them after a day of so many gruesome revelations. So the inspector plunged on. 

"There are three entrances into the Square. The widest is the one we came in, from Mitre Street, then there's a narrower passage in the north east corner called St James Place, and thirdly the long narrow Church Passage over there in the south east corner which leads to Dukes Place. The assailant could have disappeared down any of these routes and melted into the night." 

Still The Doctor made no remark, but paced around the small space tapping his lips with the tips of his fingers. 

Eventually he paused. 

"I've seen enough." He announced. "The mortuary can wait for another day. Let's go back to Paternoster Row. I need my Tardis." 

Bill and Jenny exchanged glances. 

"And I must return to the station. But if you need me you can find me there." The inspector said.  
"Or you can speak to Gregson, he's a competent chap. I trust him." 

"Fair enough!" 

The two men shook hands firmly. 

"I appreciate you doing this Doctor. We need to catch this person! Before he kills again!" 

oOo

It was not long before the trio arrived back at Madame Vastra's home. 

She was already there, with Nardole and Strax.......who were sitting together in the kitchen, one arm slung around the shoulder of each other, drunk as Lords, singing a Sontaran battle song raucously. 

Bill tried to stifle a giggle. 

But the Doctor frowned, hands on hips. 

"Bloody lucky I have you there to kick MY arse!" He scoffed, as Nardole slipped gracefully from the chair onto the floor.


	10. Thoughts.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang are sharing their thoughts of what they've seen, a few conclusions are reached!

CHAPTER TEN.  
THOUGHTS. 

By the time Bill finally made it downstairs it was after nine. 

"Afternoon!" The Doctor growled, not looking up from where he sat at the kitchen table perusing the newspaper. 

The mood in the house was sombre to say the least. 

Nardole was seated off to one side, a cold flannel held to his forehead by a rather cross looking Jenny.  
Strax could be seen out in the yard busy with a broom and a bucket of water. 

"What's he doing?" Bill asked, nodding towards the window. 

"Clearing up his own vomit!" Jenny snapped. "And I have no sympathy! For either of you!" 

She looked down with disgust at the top of Nardole's bald pate. 

From the companion came naught but a groan. 

"Enjoy your fun human!! We did find out something though......for your information!" 

Miss Flint put her hands on her hips, face filled with scepticism.

"You did? What?" 

Bill piped up. 

"That you're both total lightweights when it comes to alcohol?" 

Nardole gave the two women a withering look. 

"Oh _ha de ha!_ No! Actually! We found that it's not the first time the smartly dressed man has been seen in the area. Or at least 'A' smartly dressed man.....a gentleman he was described as, to me.....a toff, by someone else......I'm sure it's significant. So there! The pain wasn't entirely without reward!" 

Madame Vastra entered, from the yard. Picking her way through the puddles caused by Strax, in his efforts to clean down the cobbles. 

She surveyed the rather melancholy bunch. 

"What's the matter with you all?" She asked sharply. 

Only the Doctor didn't look up from his paper. 

"There's much to be doing! No time for moping. We must visit the mortuary..... _Doctor_." She looked pointedly at the Timelord. "We must think about suspects.......and we must do something about Mary Kelly......it's been some weeks since the Stride/Eddowes atrocities......we must be vigilant, on the ball, no time for slacking!" 

"I searched for her on the last Census.....don't ask......" Nardole said, sheepishly. "But it was 1881 and she doesn't appear. Someone in 'The Ten Bells' mentioned she comes in there drinking from time to time.....but he hadn't seen her lately.......doesn't know where she lives......." 

Bill was listening to them all with rapt attention, then, the spell seemingly broken, she turned to The Doctor. 

"I was thinking......in bed......about this Mary Kelly......." She began. 

"Oh?" The owlish eyebrows were raised with sudden interest. "Do tell!" 

"Well......you said it's well documented, right?" 

"Mmmm?" The Timelord had an _'I know where this is going'_ look on his face. 

"So......why can't you use the Tardis, go forwards, find out when it'll be, then we can find her....stop it......"

The Doctor gave a very slight smile, folding the newspaper most carefully, smoothing it flat with both hands, before folding them together over the top of it. 

"An excellent idea!" He said, voice heavy with sadness, but also a little sarcasm. "While I'm at it, why don't I nip forwards and kill the young Hitler in the trenches of Flanders?.......Or backwards to save Boudicca from the Romans, thus putting pay to their Britannic Empire expansion?......Or maybe I could throw a bucket of water over the fire in the Baker's shop in Pudding Lane in 1666, or perhaps arrange for the capture of the pilots of the planes that hit the World Trade Centre? How would that be?" 

Bill Potts opened her mouth to say something, then snapped it shut again.

The Doctor continued, his tone more kindly now. 

"How many times would I have loved to do just that, Bill? So, so many. And not just on this planet. You yourself mentioned stepping on a butterfly and changing history when we visited the Frost fair. It can't be done. It could cause a massive temporal paradox......" 

He held up a hand to silence Vastra as she moved to speak.

"I _know_ what you are going to say........I _have_ done it before......and yes......I have......with varying consequences; small and benign where effect preceded cause, like the time I robbed the Bank of Karabraxos.......er.....long story!" He added quickly as various eyebrows rose in surprise.  
"On a larger scale......" he ploughed on regardless, "........something on a par with the descendants of a race travelling back in time to exterminate their predecessors.....again..... _don't ask!_ And then the more monumental......interfering with the Web of Time itself or altering a fixed point in time.....an act which could and did destabilise and almost destroyed the entire Space-Time Continuum......" 

Bill interrupted. 

"Okay! Okay! I get it! Bad idea.......jeez......." 

She held up her hands in surrender. 

"........so what do we have to go on......how can we even do anything?" 

"I've noticed a pattern in the killings......anyone else notice it?" Jenny spoke suddenly. 

Everyone, including the Doctor, turned to look at her. 

"Well?" Nardole demanded, removing the damp flannel from his head and sitting forwards. 

"Well, it's the timings of the killings, and the day......always in the small hours, and always at a weekend, which makes me think there's a reason. I mean.....you can slip away from your lodging, home, wife even, in the dead of night can't you? When everyone thinks you're safely tucked up in bed! Maybe it's someone who is only in the vicinity at weekends, or is otherwise occupied during the week......" 

"Hmm. Makes sense. Good thoughts Jenny." 

The Doctor nodded sagely.

"I've been giving some thought to the double murder......the timings.....I mean, it might be just my addled thought processes, but, heck.......here's our man, rudely interrupted in the middle of slitting Stride's throat at one in the morning, and by quarter to two he's already walked the best part of a mile, found, chatted to and killed another woman? Just like that? Pardon me but that's some fast mover!  
The walk takes around 15 minutes at least, we walked it ourselves......obviously less if you ran all the way.......but would you want to draw attention to yourself by sprinting down Whitechapel Road like a bat out of hell, in front of everyone? No!.........you'd walk.....as normally as possible, so that leaves no more than about 20 minutes to find, bargain with, persuade, whatever......another girl to come into Mitre Square with you, then kill her and spend at least ten fun packed minutes disembowelling the poor unfortunate, careful to be clear away before 01.44 when PC Watkins blunders in with his lantern! It's too incredible for words!" 

"So what are you saying?" Vastra asked. Her bright eyes twinkling. 

"Well......I was thinking about what Schwartz told us. The Police practically ignored his statement, but what if what he saw and described were true? What if there IS an accomplice? And just suppose......for arguments sake.....that the accomplice is a coachman? Wouldn't that make sense?  
Kill Liz Stride......manage, as luck would have it, to escape.....jump in your coach......and be in Mitre Square in five minutes flat? 

"Good grief!" Madame exclaimed......"by the Goddess, Doctor........that makes a great deal of sense......it also explains why our man melts into the ether and no one sees him before or after the deed......just brief sightings.....then he's gone, vanished clean away." 

"If that's the case.......it rules out locals......or sailors......or disgruntled Jewish immigrants.....and many others whom the Police have suspected......." Jenny mused thoughtfully. "Cos they wouldn't have access or funds for a coach and driver........most of the people in that area live on the bread line.....the vast majority haven't got a pot to p........."

 _"ANNNNYWAY!"_ The Timelord intervened quickly. "It also implies a great deal of trust and loyalty. Master to servant. It would have to be a powerful person with a great deal of influence to command that kind of obedience......to be aware of what was going on.....but not to ask questions.....to be complicit, but to keep ones mouth resolutely shut. Who would wield that kind of power?" 

"Someone rich." Bill said quietly. "Someone with status.....clout......a reputation......they'd be eminent.....respected, like a politician, or a Doctor.......gentry perhaps? Or someone famous....." she tailed off as her own thoughts came home to her. "Christ!" She added, finally. 

"In that case I think our efforts should be to find this coachman......if he exists, and through him......perhaps, the killer." Madame Vastra replied. 

"And melt him with acid........." Strax growled, as he came in from the courtyard, having finished his sweeping. 

"It occurs to me......" Jenny pondered, ignoring the Sontaran completely, ".........well.......say you 'ad a prize jewel.......where would be the best place to hide it? Why, amongst lots of other similar jewels! Undoubtedly the most inconspicuous, unremarkable, by far the easiest hidden coach in London would be a Hansom. There are hundreds of 'em.......all as ordinary as pie......instantly forgettable....even if people noticed it, they wouldn't remember......it's significance not even considered......" 

The Doctor was silent. 

The assembled group turned to face him. 

"Have I said it before? I have a _really_ bad feeling about this!" He muttered through his teeth.


	11. Plan.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenny comes up with a bright idea. The Doctor is dead against it....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter cuts between The Gang themselves and Mary Kelly. I hope it's easy to follow.  
> The Britannia and the Ten Bells were notorious pubs in the Whitechapel area.  
> All Mary Kelly's movements are true to that day.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.  
PLAN.

_Friday Afternoon. 9th November........_

"By the Goddess! We need to catch him.....them......!" Vastra declared, her voice almost a hiss between her teeth.  
"......preferably in the act, so there's absolutely no mistake......but we can at least start by questioning cab drivers!" 

"Ma'am, forgive me, but that would be like hunting for a needle in a haystack, we can't possibly interview all the cabbies......it could be any one of dozens and dozens......." Nardole interrupted. 

"Virtually impossible!" The Doctor agreed. "The streets are a rabbit warren of lanes and dark corners, he could be in any one at any given time, in any of a hundred Hansom's, and have his pick of a hundred different unfortunate women." 

"But we _could_ narrow down the odds......." Jenny said suddenly. 

Everyone turned to look at her. 

".......we could set someone up.......a trap.......using someone as bait........"

"WHAT?!........NO!" The Timelord cried. 

"But it's perfect......" Jenny continued, becoming more animated. "I know the area, I know his methods, I know which streets he's likely to choose.....we could be lying in wait......to pounce......"

"You don't mean......?" Bill's eyes grew wide with fear. "......... _you yourself_.......surely not Jen.....?" 

The young woman became impassioned, her eyes bright with excitement at her idea.

"Why not? I can take care of myself......." 

"ABSOLUTELY. UNCATEGORICALLY. NOT!" The Doctor slammed down a fist. "It's too risky. I won't allow it." 

"But Doctor......it could work.....I could entice him......Madame would be there, somewhere nearby, she would see no harm came to me.....I'd be protected......armed.......we could even tell Abberline." 

"I'm not listening." The Doctor said, with finality. "It's a stupid idea......forget it. Not happening!" 

Silence followed. 

It was broken by the voice of Vastra. 

"It _could_ work........." She whispered, her voice a menacing hiss, like steam escaping from a under a saucepan lid. "Providing we were careful, picked our spot......dangerous certainly......but a possibility......." 

The Timelord turned to look at her with incredulity.

"You're _actually_ sanctioning this daft idea?!" He exclaimed. "Your own wife? The person you love most in the world? Are you mad?" 

Vastra's head turned very slowly towards him. Her eyes gleaming, almost black. 

"You have done the same." She snarled. "Many times, _Timelord_........or your companions have offered themselves.......freely.......Rose......Clara.......your own wife......."

"STOP! THIS INSTANT!" The Doctor leapt to his feet, the chair on which he'd been sitting crashing to the floor.  
His face was twisted, wild with fear and emotion, his hands going up to his head, pulling on the grey curls there, seemingly in torment. The haunted look in his eyes was frightening, the rims red, tears not far away, his voice sounding strangled.  
"DON'T YOU DARE!" He seethed, his anger hot.  
Then he diminished, seemingly shrinking, tone now hushed.  
"I have lost....... _so many_........always losing........I swore.....to myself..... _never_......never again!" 

Jenny stepped forwards, laying a gentle hand on his forearm. 

"Doctor, the decision isn't yours to make. Just as I can look after myself, I can speak for myself too." 

Her eyes looked into the depths of his blue, as his long fingers came up and rested over her warm hand, where it lay on his sleeve. 

" _Please_....." He whispered, a tear toppling over the brink of his lashes and coursing down. "Don't do this......" 

"Dear Doctor!" Her other hand sandwiched his and squeezed slightly. "My mind is made up. We have a chance here.....I'll not waste it." 

oOo

The house at Paternoster Row was dark, almost doom laden. 

Everyone was preparing themselves in their own way. 

Vastra and Jenny were alone in their chamber. 

Madame was fastening the stays of a reinforced corset, standing behind her wife, tugging on the string fastenings.

Jenny stood in front of the mirror. Hands on hips, holding her breath.

"Tighter!" She huffed. 

"You're quite sure about this?" Her partner asked, securing the laces and turning her loved one round to face her.

Their eyes met. 

"Completely sure." 

The kiss was a gentle one, warm, passionate and loving, the Silurian drawing her lover close, encircling the narrow waist, holding the human woman in place. Eyes closed. Sinking into oblivion for those few moments.  
Eventually they separated. 

"I can't lose you. You know how dear you are to me?" Madame whispered, her voice faint with desire.  
"And you, to me." Came the reply. "But I was ever the adventurous one......the matron in the Children's Home always said I'd come to no good in the end." 

Vastra twirled a lock of Jenny's silky hair between her scaly fingers. 

"At the first sign of anything, you holler your lungs out....you hear.......? Oh.....and I'm leaving nothing to chance." 

She took out a thick leather collar, and fastened it around her spouse's neck.

Jenny's hands went to her throat, feeling the tightness there, before buttoning her blouse to hide it. 

"This is your secret fantasy!" She said with a soft laugh. "Don't deny it......me.....collared......in your thrall......." 

"Right now, my only wish is to keep you safe......I don't know why I'm allowing you to do this....." 

"Because you want him to be caught as much as I.......and you can't think of a better way of doing it......"

Green hands clasped pink. 

"Just you watch yourself, that's all! Come along, the others will be ready. We must leave. It's already dark." 

oOo

Mary Jane Kelly was at home in her lodgings at Millers Court, just off the notorious Dorset Street. Nicknamed the 'worst street in London'. Home of vagabonds and whores, as well as the poorest, most deprived people in the East End. 

Mary rented a room at number 13. 

The whole area was almost entirely taken up by common lodging houses and sub standard rented accommodation.  
But Mary was one of the luckier ones, at least she had a roof over her head. 

A knock on the door was answered. 

Maria Harvey, a friend, had come to visit, and was welcomed. 

_"I'm goin' over to the Brittannia later, for an 'apporth of gin......you comin'?"_

"Nah! I was gonna go to the Ten Bells tonight......see if I can pick up a knee trembler......I need some rent money, 'else McCarthy'll kick me out! You can't lend me sixpence can yer......for some supper?" 

_"I would if I could lovey, you know that, but I ain't got none to spare."_

"My Joe'll be here later.....mebee he'll 'ave some." 

_"I thought you'd finished wiv 'im?"_

"I 'ave! He didn't like my lady friends stayin' over. But what could I do? Wiv this murderer on the loose, and the doss houses full? Can't let 'em walk the streets all night! He's got lodgings off Bishopsgate now, but 'e still comes round, brings me fish off the Market......he works there.....Billingsgate....'e's got a good 'eart 'as Joe." 

_"Alright then duck......I might see yer later for a snifter! You mind 'ow you go!"_

"You 'an all. Night lovey!"


	12. Bait.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenny is carrying out her dangerous plan, what could possibly go wrong?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is written from the perspective of the various players, giving what each group was doing at any given time. 
> 
> I hope it's not too complicated to follow, but I wanted to give the air of suspense to the narrative.
> 
> All the descriptions, timings and events of Mary Kelly are real, taken from witness statements at the time. As are the street names, the places and the people involved. Only The Doctor and his friends are fiction.

CHAPTER TWELVE.  
BAIT. 

_Friday evening. 9th November......_

A foggy night. The relative warmth of the autumn day bought the damp rising up from the ground.  
Condensing. Seeping into every nook and cranny, every alleyway and courtyard, like a cancer.  
Dense swirling mist which smelled of decay. 

Dank and thick. 

Seeming to cling to everything......clothing, hair, the very walls breathed it.  
Muffling all sound, deadening the footfalls of passing pedestrians, the clip-clop of the horses hooves against the cobbles, the cries of the carters and wagoners as they went on their way.

Neither darkness, chill nor the grey vapour could stop the throng of humanity walking the streets. No matter how late it was.  
Jenny Flint looked up from under her bonnet, seeing the row of gas lamps seemingly suspended in mid air above her head. Their posts almost invisible.  
Jaundiced orbs of yellow light, shining bravely through the mist.  
Illuminating very little. 

In contrast, the lanterns from the Ten Bells appeared friendly and warming. A glow which penetrated as far as the pavement before dissipating into the void.  
Several people were milling about outside; two oily stevedores in cloth caps, smoking clay pipes, a ragged child begging, a group of sturdy lightermen from the river.  
Inside the public bar was heaving.  
Sailors and market traders, labourers and itinerants, landlords and their tenants.  
Ladies, looking for trade. 

A melting pot of every caste of humankind.  
The great unwashed. 

Bawdy singing. The sound of an old upright piano being bashed to within an inch of its life, as those standing around it gave voice to a melody. 

Nardole and Strax had taken up positions by the bar. Where they were offered a good view of the clientele and where they could ascertain from the barman whether Mary Kelly had been in that night.  


She hadn't. 

No one had seen her.

Leaving the warmth and security of the inn, Jenny walked away from it and down towards Flower and Dean Street, before turning and retracing her steps. She paraded with a swing in her step, her bonnet at a jaunty angle, confident and cheery.  
This was a regular haunt for the Ladies of the Night, a prime pick up spot.  
Well known and very well used. 

Punters would stop a potential target, speak briefly. A price being agreed, they would then either accompany the poor creature to a nearby lodging, or find a dark and quiet corner in which to complete their 'business'.

She was shadowed the entire time by a tall stately woman clad entirely in black.  
This phantom moved in and out of the darkest corners effortlessly. No one marked her. No one even heard her breathe as she passed.  
Silent and stealthy, her eyes glittering from behind the lace of the veil she wore. 

On the opposite side of the street from Miss Flint's promenade was another figure. 

Equally tall and slim. But unmistakably masculine.  
Frock coat, hat pulled low over his face.  
He too moved like a cat, creeping from doorway to doorway.  
Careful to never let the woman across from him out of his sight. 

oOo

Bill Potts, refusing to stay at home, eager to help in any way, was out on the beat. Walking alongside Police Constable Neil, as he patrolled his patch.  
Roughly a fifteen minute circuit, it took in part of the Commerical Road, Dorset Street, Flower and Dean Street, and Thrawl street, this included the numerous yards and working premises, mews and warehouses in the area, as well as the lodgings, tenements and other dwellings. 

PC Neil had already broken up two fist fights, one between a couple of sailors on shore leave, and the other a domestic between a man and his wife, which resulted in a black eye for the missus and a swift knee in the 'unmentionables' for the husband.  
He'd also moved along a drunk and disorderly woman, whom he accompanied to the Police Station on Leman Street, to allow her to sober up in a cell, and helped an elderly man who had just been mugged, his watch and a shilling stolen.  
Bill never left the side of the burly Copper, feeling decidedly uneasy in this tough environment, probably more so than she ever did in a futuristic city made entirely of micro robots called Vardies.  
Lawless and dangerous as anything she imagined in the Wild West, Ms Potts felt very much like a fish out of water. 

It was by now, eleven. The clock on the tower of Christ Church on the Commerical Road tolled the hour mechanically, the sound of its bell fading mournfully into the fog. 

oOo

Mary Kelly was propping up the bar of the Britannia. 

Situated on the corner of Dorset Street, the inn was but a stones throw from her lodgings. 

Drinking and carousing in the company of a gentleman. Smart and well dressed.  
Words slurred, breaking periodically into raucous snatches of the Irish song _'A Violet from Mother's Grave._ '  
Business was slow and her beau unresponsive, or maybe she was just too intoxicated. 

"Go home Mary love! You're three sheets to the wind!" The barman told her. 

Stumbling along the edge of the kerb, the hapless 'Coleen' met her upstairs neighbour, Mrs Cox, from number five, as she entered Millers Court.  
This time with another man in tow, whom she'd met on the corner of Dorset Street, around 11.45pm, after leaving the ale house.  
Still singing, her friend, who's room was over Mary's, wished her a goodnight. 

An hour or more later, another neighbour, Catherine Pickett, disturbed from her sleep by the tuneless racket, woke her husband beside her.

Yawning, she sat up in bed. 

"I'm going to go down and tell her to bloody shut up!" 

Her husband laughed and turned over. 

"Leave the poor woman alone, she's doing no harm!" 

Finally at 1am the singing stopped and all became quiet. 

oOo

In the early hours of the morning, along the Commercial Road, the carts were beginning to head towards the Markets from the Docks not far away.  
A streaming hubbub of drays and dog-carts, carriages, donkey traps, and larger litters carrying milk churns, barrels of fish, fruit and vegetables, amongst other things.

The Doctor was a complete bag of nerves. The strain of keeping his eye fixed on Jenny as she paraded up and down the road taking its toll.  
Every time a man so much as went near her, his two hearts were beating a military tattoo, and he was coiled to race to the rescue. 

Minutes seemed to pass like hours. 

As for Jenny, her feet were cold, and that was her overriding thought! But she kept her wits about her and her eyes peeled.

oOo

A cold draft was coming through the broken pane of glass in Mary's small rented room. 

Rising, she found an old newspaper and unceremoniously stuffed the hole with it. 

Fully awake now after an hours kip, and a little less inebriated , she found her warmest shawl and set out into the night once more. 

The clock struck two as she left the entrance to the court and bumped into an acquaintance.  
George Hutchinson. 

"'Ere.....Georgie, can you lend me sixpence?" Leaning heavily against the wall beside the man the stench of gin breath hit him. 

"Nah. I just got back from Romford, I spent all my money there." He replied, only briefly noticing a cab drawing up nearby and a smart man alighting, walking passed himself and Mary and hurrying briskly away towards Thrawl Street. 

"I need to get some money." The young woman replied, peeling herself upright and tottering off in the same direction. 

oOo

Jenny yawned. She was tired and longing for her bed. 

On her umpteenth turn, walking back towards the Ten Bells, she was confronted suddenly by a man. 

He seemed to materialise right in front of her, stepping out of the shadows and into her path. 

"Evening my dear." 

His voice was cultured. Not cockney or foreign or any accent she might have expected to hear. 

"Good evening sir." She responded warmly. Inside her chest the heart began beating wildly, as adrenaline started to pump. Coursing through every vein, every sinew, flight or fight. 

Could this be it? 

"How much?" 

The man was quite young, not much older than Jenny herself.  
Somewhat taller, of slim build. She noted a carefully clipped moustache, an expensive felt hat.  
Quite a gentleman, sporting a fine astrakhan coat, leather gloves.  
Her beady eyes scanned him briefly, taking in the shiny, well polished boots. Sharp crease in the trouser. 

"Fourpence to you darlin' or sixpence if you're feeling generous....." She tried to keep the tremble from her voice. 

"Let's find a nice quiet corner." There was a hint of menace in the tone. "I know just the place." 

The gentleman offered his arm in courtly fashion, which Jenny accepted graciously.  
Just one brief glance over her shoulder as they set off together. 

oOo

PC Neil raised his lantern as he walked into Millers Court, with Bill close beside him. It was after 2.30 am, and this was the last circuit before his shift change. 

What a dark and dingy place. No street lighting here. 

All was quiet. No sound to be heard.  
A few of the rooms showed a small flicker of candle or lamp light, just visible through the swirl of the fog. 

Inspector Gregson had been most unhappy at the Paternoster plan, he already had massive headaches with various mob uprisings in the Whitechapel area and murmurings of police incompetence over the latest double murder.  
Fortunately, as there had been no further killings for almost a month, things had died down. Although the stirrings of antisemitism were never far below the surface. 

Now these meddling fools had the chance of potentially reawakening all the disquiet. 

Yet there was little The Force could do to thwart them. They were operating outside the realms of the law, in effect. Lose cannons. Drat them. 

Several other vigilante groups had recently emerged. One led by the infamous George Lusk, a local businessman, elected as the chairman of the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee. A rather surly man, not much given to compassion. 

Extra 'Bobbies' had been drafted in, now patrolling in pairs. A gesture, but largely futile, since the East End resembled a vast ants nest.  
Poke it with a stick and the occupants swarm and seethe. Impossible to defend, even more difficult to keep secure, a rising tide of overspilling resentment and hatred. 

"Come on, Miss Bill.....let's head back and grab a nice cup of rosy-lea, warm ourselves up, my colleagues Joseph and Henry will take our places, we're done for the night. Perhaps this shift we'll be lucky, and nothing will happen." 

"I certainly hope so. For Jenny's sake." Bill breathed on her cold hands to warm them. 

oOo

George Hutchinson was feeling rather disappointed. 

Mary was an attractive girl, buxom, willing. 

But he had no money. 

There was no way she'd accept his advances for free. 

It was some moments since he'd watched her toddle away, perhaps if he hung around for a while, he might catch sight of her again. If she'd been unsuccessful in finding a punter, maybe he'd ask her then....if he was lucky, she might just say yes. 

He did not have long to wait. 

Here she came, but, oh, the despondency! There was a man on her arm.  
The same one he'd fleetingly noticed earlier, yet somehow he registered in the memory. 

Should he follow them? 

See if they go their separate ways, in which case, George thought to himself, 'I might be in with a chance.'

From across the blackness of the street he watched the pair. They stopped to speak briefly in the entranceway to Millers Court for a few moments, the gentleman's hand gently on her shoulder. 

"All right!" He heard her say, and they moved off together arm in arm. 

Hutchinson waited until the clock struck 3, before deciding that perhaps his ardour wasn't quite what he first imagined, and he turned sullenly away, heading off home. 

oOo

Christ Church was a fine building. Designed by Nicholas Hawksmoor. Tall and narrow looking with a delicate spire, reaching valiantly towards the sky. 

Tonight the top was lost in the veil of thick mist. The edifice almost ghostly, enveloped by the choking blanket of fog. 

A single bell tolled the quarter. 2.15am. 

Figures loomed into view, then floated passed. 

Jenny was aware that her situation was now not a good one. Her fingers closed around the small knife which was tucked discreetly into her belt. 

The area surrounding the church itself was unlit, trees gave a deeper shadow, iron railings skirted the periphery.  
A motley group of people loitered there, a veritable den of iniquity.  
Itchy Park, it was locally called. 

The old cemetery now a place for the homeless and the destitute to doss or solicit.

Beneath the four Doric columns which formed an entrance archway, away from the hustle of the street below, Jenny was led up the steps almost against her will.  
She did not struggle, but she was ready to fight. 

Pushed backwards into the shadows, the man's body crowded hers. 

"You're beautiful." He breathed hotly.  
His hands began to wander, one thigh pushed between hers. 

"No need to be rough lovey......." She began, acting innocent. 

There was barely enough light to see the man's face, but she was sure she spotted the flash of a silver handled razor, as his left hand moved towards her neck. 

As Jenny bought up an arm to defend herself, she felt the sting of a cut into her forearm. 

Before either of the pair had time to react further, the errant gentleman was grabbed from behind by the strong lithesome fingers of a reptilian hand.  
The blade of a long sword held beneath his chin. 

"Move one inch and it'll be your last!" She hissed, with great menace. 

The Silurian was joined by a companion. A tall wiry man with a wealth of silver hair. 

"Gotcha!" He snarled. 

It was at that moment however, that Jenny, who had been bleeding profusely, unnoticed by either of her friends, sank gradually to the ground into a dead faint. 

As her legs crumpled beneath her, her assailant gave a decisive movement, shoving Vastra to one side and running down the steps two at a time, before vanishing into the night.  
The Doctor leapt after him, yelling to Vastra as he did so. 

_"Look after her!"_

Neither Strax nor Nardole, who were on lookout on the main thoroughfare, spotted him coming towards them, as he calmly entered a cab stationed silently nearby. The horse whipped up and immediately trotting away. The Doctor just in time to see them disappear down Church Street. 

It was all over in a matter of seconds.


	13. Lucky Escape.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenny is being cared for......

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.  
LUCKY ESCAPE. 

Strax entered the bed chamber bearing a large iron coal scuttle. Proceeding as quietly as possible to add some chunks to the comforting fire with a pair of tongs. 

It crackled and spat with ferocity, lighting his leathery head with a red glow. 

The room was silent apart from the noise from the grate, the roar as the flames leapt up the chimney. 

Nardole and Bill stood side by side at the foot of the bed. Like two mourners at a wake.  
Bill reaching unconsciously for the pale hand of her male companion. The merest glance passed between them and a slight squeeze of reassurance. Nardole's mobile face giving a little smile, which confirmed the shared feelings of doubt and fear, but acknowledged the hope and fortune of the situation. 

Madame Vastra sat on a chair, drawn up to the bedside, her fingers resting over the right hand of her wife, the scaly visage worn with concern and love. 

The Doctor stood on the other side, looking down on the pale face of the young woman, twisted as it was with pain, his own mien grave and serious. 

Fastening a white apron around his middle, rolling up the long cuffs of his shirt to the elbows.  
First washing his hands in a bowl, from a ewer of hot water which Strax now poured for him.  
He dried them thoroughly on a towel before turning to a tray covered with a clean starched cloth that stood on a small table at his side. 

It contained stainless steel surgical instruments procured from the Tardis. 

His glance strayed to Madame, a slight incline of the head and flash of his hooded blue eyes his only signal. 

Nodding, her fingers placed on either side of her lover's temples, Vastra spoke gently. 

"I am going to project an image of perfect peace into your mind. Rest now my dear, and don't be afraid." 

Vastra seemed to collect herself, dropping her shoulders, taking a deep breath in, and releasing slowly, eyes closed, the effect on her partner was immediate.  
Like being hit by a lightening bolt.  
Jenny's body stiffened briefly, before her eyes fluttered shut and her muscles suddenly relaxed into a boneless comatose state. 

Bill gave a little gasp at the sight. 

Without much more that a nod of satisfaction, the Doctor, with a gentleness that belied his size, peeled back the blood soaked dressing from the forearm with a pair of forceps.  
Surveying the damage with a shake of the head and a tut. 

The cut was deep. More a slash really. Slicing the flesh as only a razor can. 

More than six inches long. 

Nardole moved to his side, and began passing tweezers, gauze, antiseptic, seemingly knowing which article to lay into the Timelord's hands next. 

The long tapered fingers explored the wound briefly, and with great delicacy, before effecting some superficial repairs to the inner tissues with the aid of his sonic screwdriver, the pulse from the pen-like tool seemed to have a cauterising action and the ooze of red gradually ceased. 

All that could be heard in the room now was Jenny's shallow breathing, as she slumbered on in blissful unawareness, accompanied by the ticking of the carriage clock on the mantlepiece. 

Time seemed to stand still. 

No one spoke. 

All seemingly struck dumb or numbed by the events of the hours before. 

By the time the first rays of a watery November sun filtered through the drapes, the Doctor, with all the skill of an accomplished surgeon, finished tying off the final suture, which formed a neat line in the pale skin of his patient's left arm. 

Wiping the blood residue away with a clean swab, a thick gamgee gauze was applied over the whole, followed by a crepe bandage.  
The arm was then laid diagonally across her chest, strapped carefully into position, effectively immobilising the limb. 

Everyone seemed to let out a sigh. A breath of relief.  
The Doctor leaning back, passed a hand across his brow with a puff. 

"She'll be alright." He murmured quietly. "But more by luck than judgement." 

Vastra's eyes were wet. 

"Thank you Doctor." She whispered. 

oOo

_'Earlier.......'_

Such a lot of blood. 

Soaking through her dress sleeve and coat. 

The material of which were both shredded. 

Vastra clung to her lover, cradling the pretty head in her own lap, as she tore a strip of the satin material and wrapped it tightly around the arm at the elbow.  
Fashioning a makeshift tourniquet. 

"Don't you dare!" She whispered with a hiss, as her partner gave a little whimper of pain and seemed to be drifting away. 

"Did they get 'im?" She muttered weakly. 

"The Doctor has gone after him, but don't you fret about that....you just concentrate on yourself, and stay with me!" Came the stern reply. 

"Yes ma'am." Jenny responded. "My arm hurts." She added, pointlessly. 

"I know! And we'll soon be safe at home where we can have a look at you. Drink this." 

A small silver phial was held to her lips, bringing her head forward, Jenny sipped it, swallowing and closing her eyes." 

"What is it?" She asked, with a lick of her moistened lips. 

"Just a little tonic from my people. We use it to strengthen the resolve and ease the pain in times of strife. Just the thing for you now." The Silurian replied gently. 

oOo

The Doctor vaulted down the steps in hot pursuit of the assailant, with surprising agility for one of his apparent age and level of fitness. 

He could see the dark shape moving in and out of the fog ahead of him, and that the gap was widening with every moment.  
My, but this man was fast! 

Only vaguely becoming aware of Strax and Nardole, standing at the kerbside. 

"Get him!" He yelled, as the dark shape flashed past them. 

Strax held a proton stun blaster to his hip and fired off a single shot. Missing the runner by millimetres. 

Reaching an apparently waiting carriage, the attacker called out, causing the driver, seated up top, to turn, then urge the horse into motion. 

Jumping inside as the cab moved off, the cry of _'H'yah'_ as the whole contraption sped away down the street.  
One final flash of green light from the Sontaran weapon, hitting the retreating back of the vehicle, but not causing enough damage to halt its progress. 

The Timelord's last view of the Hansom, as it disappeared from sight, was the driver; tall, about 35 or so, with only his pale eyes visible beneath a woollen muffler, wound around his neck and up to his nose, rendering him virtually indistinguishable from any other of his type. 

"Damn! Damn! Damn!" He cursed. 

There was nothing to be done. 

Only for a second did the Timelord stand there, staring at the place where the cab had been, those harsh eyes etched onto his brain, before turning to his friends.  
"Strax.....go fetch our carriage......hurry! Nardole come with me, Jenny's hurt.....QUICK MAN!" He urged, and returned the way he'd come, at the run.  
Nardole lumbering along in his wake. Muttering to himself as he did so. 

"Ohhh! I knew something like this would happen!! Ohhh.....I hate this place!" 

oOo

_'Early next morning......'_

Jenny's eyes opened on a day, that by rights, she should not have seen. 

Bill was sitting beside her, and rose as she saw the movement. 

"Did we get him?" She asked weakly, her gaze fixed on the ceiling above her head. 

Bill took her good hand in her own, stroking it gently. 

"No. He got away. But don't think about that. You're alive and that's all that matters. You lost an awful lot of blood!" 

"It's sore." Jenny wiggled her fingers experimentally, and winced. The hand resting close to her right shoulder, where it was firmly strapped. 

"I'll fetch Madame." Bill said, keeping her face cheerful. "She was here until an hour ago, she's been sitting with you all the time, but I told her to go and rest......" 

Releasing her grip Bill hurried away. 

Jenny yawned and stretched, trying valiantly to sit herself up.  
The bedroom door opened to admit her loved one, who immediately hurried to the bedside and started plumping pillows, helping her to rise. 

"It's alright! I can manage! I'm not a complete invalid....." The patient protested, but was hushed into submission by having her face firmly seized and being thoroughly kissed for her pains. 

As she was released from the Silurian grip she began to laugh. 

"Well, I'll get hurt more often if that's what I get!" She chuckled. 

From behind her the door opened once more. 

The Doctor entered. A look of quiet benevolence on his face. 

"Well, well!" He smiled. "Laughter! That's a good sign.....how are you feeling?" 

"A wee bit sore, but good.....thanks to you!" Came the reply. "I'll certainly live!" 

The collective relief was evident, and the Doctor gave a rare smile.  
This was wiped from his face however, by the sudden entrance of Strax, his expression grim, bearing a Telegram on a silver tray. 

The Doctor snatched it up, tearing it open and reading the contents rapidly. 

_"Doctor. Stop. Come immediately. Stop. Millers Court. Stop. Come alone. Stop. Abberline."_

Handing the missive to Madame Vastra, he turned away. 

"I have to go." He said, through his teeth. "Stay here....take care of Jen, I'll be back as soon as I can." 

The assembled company looked from one to another in shock. 

"What is it Doctor?" Bill asked, swallowing thickly. 

"I dread to think." He replied.


	14. A New Aquaintence.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor arrives at Millers Court. 
> 
> Abberline is waiting.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with the previous chapters, all the details of Mary Kelly are true. 
> 
> Sir William Gull was also really physician-in-general to the Queen and actually did help The Prince of Wales through his illness in 1871.  
> John Netley also existed and was also investigated by the police as a possible Ripper suspect.  
> Prince Eddy, was eldest child of Bertie and Alex, the heirs to the throne.  
> Lord Salisbury was, at the time, Prime Minister. 
> 
> As with past chapters I've tried to stay as true as possible to actual events.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.  
A NEW ACQUAINTANCE.

Strax drove the carriage as if the very hounds of hell were chasing him. Weaving in and out of the traffic.  
The Doctor bounced around inside like a dried pea in a tin. 

Arriving at the corner of Dorset Street they came to a sudden halt, shooting him forwards in his seat. 

"Open in the name of the Sontaran Empire!" He heard Strax yell. 

Peering out, he could see a cordon of police officers, who parted like the Red Sea, waving them through. 

A silent crowd stood on the pavement in the November drizzle, where the entrance to the Court gave onto the Main Street.  
Although the fog had been replaced by cleansing rain, the houses in Dorset Street were tall and blackened. Seemingly leaning over to menace the passerby.  
The mob stood aside as they saw the imposing figure of the Timelord in his frock coat, making his way through. 

Murmurings and whisperings could be heard amongst them. 

The word _'murder'_ and more besides. Rumblings of discontent, _'catch him and hang him'_ someone cried as the Doctor entered the small and dingy court itself, and was shown to where Inspector Abberline was standing, drawn and pale. 

Number thirteen was in one corner. Nothing more than a door with a window to the side. 

Beside the wall stood a young police constable, leaning heavily, having just vomited copiously. Next to him, a short chap in a cloth hat, whom the Doctor took to be the landlord. He was shaking his head and wiping his brow with a grubby handkerchief. Looking equally green around the gills. 

"I only came by for me rent!" He was saying. "Knocked fit to bust the door, but no answer....so I peeped through the crack in the window pane there, where it's been stuffed with newspaper.... took one look and ran for it......gave me such a turn.......I'll never get over it." 

Seeing the Timelord, who's superior height and silver hair made him instantly visible, Abberline came across. 

"It's bad, Sir." He said. "Very bad indeed. Never seen anything like it. Not in all my years...." 

"Show me." Came the taut reply. 

Even the mighty man of Gallifrey, who had seen both war and disease, death and destruction, gruesome sights aplenty over dozens of centuries, was not quite prepared for what met his eyes as he was shown inside that gloomy room. 

One hand over his mouth, he stifled a retch for a brief moment, then, collecting himself, he set his jaw tight. Breathing through his nose, the nostrils flaring as he did so. His clear cyan blue eyes watering in spite of his fortitude. 

The body, or what remained of it, lay on the bed. 

Barely recognisable as a human being, such was the mutilation. 

Completely eviscerated. Opened up like a gutted carcass. The innards and piles of severed flesh on the table beyond.  
The once attractive face hacked to a bloody pulp. 

There was blood everywhere. Up the walls, on the floor, the mattress soaked through, the table dripping with the viscous substance. 

More a massacre than a murder. Reduced to a stripped down cadaver, the bone of one femur visible fully on the left leg. Chest parted down to the rib cage. Heart removed, breasts cut off. 

"Good grief!" He whispered through his gritted teeth. 

Abberline was trying his best to keep his eyes averted from the carnage. Head down, looking pointedly at the floor. 

"So this is what he does when he's got all the time in the world, no fear or care of being disturbed......" 

He commented sourly, the disgust registering in his voice. 

".......he's sick.....must be......to do this....."

"No, Inspector! This is what he does when he's _angry_!" The Doctor replied quietly, his eyes scanning the whole scene without flinching. 

"There is frenzy here, fury even. He was almost caught.....came so close.....he knew he'd been set up.....so he was livid.......and this poor soul took the brunt of that vicious temper." 

He turned to Abberline, laying a hand on his shoulder. 

"This is revenge. Pure and simple. This is him saying...... _'you thought you were clever, but I slipped your net....now I'll make you pay for your mistake'......."_

The Timelord stopped suddenly, mid sentence, his gaze taken by something on the floor. 

Stooping, he reached into his pocket, taking out a test tube sized container. Carefully and with great delicacy, he picked up a sliver of material, uncorking the phial and sliding the find inside. 

It was satin, finely made.......and it came from Jenny Flint's sleeve. 

oOo

The remains had now been removed to the Shoreditch Mortuary.

Whence a melancholy line of police carriages, plus the Paternoster coach driven sedately by Strax followed the hearse. Forming a mournful cortège. 

Dr Thomas Bond, a distinguished Police Surgeon was called in to examine the body and perform a post-mortem. 

Several other dignitaries also arrived, all carrying varying degrees of importance. 

The Doctor, seated in the mortuary office, sipping a most welcome cup of tea, raised his eyes as one of these gentleman was shown inside. 

Somewhat elderly, perhaps seventy or so, with thin white hair beneath his smart, shiny top hat. A rather portly man, with a ruddy complexion, side burns, and the jowly cheeks of one who is rather fond of a glass or two of port. 

The two men were introduced by the Inspector. 

"This is The Doctor.......Doctor, be pleased to meet Sir William Gull, physician-in-general to Her Majesty." 

The gentleman held out a chubby hand.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance Doctor.......Doctor who?" He said, with a smile, as the two shook warmly. 

"McCrimmon. James McCrimmon. But just Doctor will do. That's what everyone calls me." 

Gull seemed to hesitate, looking the Gallifreyan up and down, as if weighing him up. 

"And how exactly are you connected to all this?" He asked, his voice just a little hostile. 

The Doctor reached into his inside pocket. 

Holding out a white wallet, so that the surgeon could read it. 

Glancing at the psychic paper the man's clouded expression cleared. 

"Ah!" He exclaimed. "Home Office! Did Lord Salisbury ask you to investigate?" 

By way of a reply, the Doctor tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially. 

The eminent physician deferred. 

"No, no.....that's perfectly fine.....the Prime Minister mentioned there'd be someone......all hush hush and all that......dreadful business. Dreadful indeed." 

He took a seat heavily, removing his hat and wiping his forehead with a fine cotton kerchief. 

"I've been sent by Queen Victoria herself." He puffed, with an air of importance. "She's been following these terrible events via the newspapers and from the police reports, she is most concerned that the Police seem no nearer to catching the perpetrator." 

"She's right to be concerned...." The Timelord replied. " .....the police are worried there may be civil unrest, there are a great many frightened people out there. And, in my experience, when people feel threatened they tend to focus on someone they suspect might be to blame.....it can all become very nasty!" 

"Look here Sir!" Sir William clapped a hand on the table. "How about you come to my house, and we can discuss this matter in more congenial surroundings? I have a splendid home off Grosvenor Square, or a fine room in Marlborough House......we could repair there? Take a glass of something. What do you say?" 

The old man seemed eager, even excited, and The Doctor wondered why he'd really come to this dreary place, this charnel house in the East End.  
Had Her Majesty really sent him? 

Somehow he doubted it. 

Perhaps it was idle curiosity.

But The Doctor doubted that too. 

He had the feeling it was not a coincidence that Sir William had turned up here today, and that he was being invited back in order to be pumped for information....

"What an excellent idea!" He smiled. "I'll send my driver home, perhaps we could take your carriage? I'm sure it's far superior to the jalopy they give me to ride around in!" 

The Timelord made to stand. 

"Capital!" Gull slapped his new companion on the back. "Shall we be off then?" 

oOo

Emerging onto the busy Shoreditch thoroughfare, Sir William steered the Doctor towards a waiting carriage.  
A Brougham. Large and well appointed. Drawn by a fine bay mare. 

The driver already seated at the bench seat up front.  
Smartly dressed in a caped overcoat and felt hat, a woollen muffler fastened around his neck and chin, to keep out the chill. Smoking a clay pipe with the air of someone at ease with himself. 

It was a while before they reached Marlborough House, a grand Queen Anne style residence, situated to the North of The Mall, in St James's, Westminster. 

At present it was the London home of the Prince and Princess of Wales and their family. 

As physician-in-general to both the Queen and the Wales's, Gull was gifted a small surgery there. It was used as a convenient sojourn from the constant stream of visitors to his own home, and as a consulting room for the Royals, should they require it. 

The coach driven expertly in through the wrought iron gates and around to the mews and stables behind. 

"Woah!" 

The mare came to a halt, the coachman climbing down to pull out the side step for the occupants. 

The Doctor alighted first, looking around him with interest. Taking note of everything he saw. 

Stabling for several horses, some of whom were leaning out with mild curiosity, their heads over the closed half of the split door.

There were several coach houses too, each with a wide arched entrance, wooden doors standing open, the vehicles visible inside each one.  
An open carriage, another Brougham, much like the one in which he'd arrived, a small landau and two Hansom's. 

"Oh dear! One of your Hansom's is damaged." He remarked idly, pointing. 

"Not mine. They belong to the family." Replied his host. 

"It was rear-ended last weekend by a milk cart." The driver's gruff voice was muffled slightly by his scarf. 

The Doctor, who up until now hadn't really paid him much attention, now turned to look. 

Straight into a pair of eyes that looked strikingly familiar. 

For a split second, he was back on the Commercial Road. In the midst of the dank November fog, the evening before.  
The scene replayed in his mind, almost in slow motion and he closed his eyes for a moment. 

Recalling......

The attacker, running fast ahead of him. The waiting Hansom whipped into motion. The strip of face of the driver which was the only glimpse he managed, between hat and scarf, as the cab jerked away.  
Strax firing at the retreating back end just before it rounded the corner and was lost. 

His eyes opened again, holding those of the coachman for a few beats, before releasing him, and commenting, with a slight smile, 

"I suspect that must happen quite a lot!" 

"That'll be all Netley. I'll not require you again today. You may return to your duties." Gull spoke, breaking the connection between servant and Timelord. 

oOo

A very smart sitting room, large windows, expensive drapes.  
Shelves lined with books, medical or otherwise. Leather bound and gold embossed.  
A cabinet containing medical files, each labelled with a year. 

Seated on arm chairs on either side of the fireplace, a low table between them. 

At the ring of the bell, a maid in regulation black dress, white apron and cap, entered.  
Bearing a tray of tea things.  
She bought a crystal decanter and two glasses from the sideboard, placing them by the side of the elderly gentleman, before giving a little bow and retreating. 

"So! Home Office eh?" He began, pouring two glasses and handing one to his guest. 

"Yes! How long have you been physician-in-general?" The Doctor countered. "It must be a highly respected post." 

"Oh some years now." Resuming his seat with a huff, his host held the glass to the light before taking a sip. "I tended the Prince Albert Edward.....'Bertie' as he's known in the family....in '71. He almost died of the typhus, but we were able to pull him through." 

"Her Majesty the Queen must have been very grateful?" The Timelord took a drink himself and nodded appreciatively. 

"Oh, she was! After losing her beloved husband Albert in similar fashion....to be faced with the potential loss of her eldest son.......well.....you can imagine." 

The Doctor did not reply, instead he placed his glass down and steepled his fingertips so that the tips of the indexes rested against his lips, waiting patiently for his host to continue.

"I was created a Baronet. Appointed the Prince's physician and the Queen's the following year.  
I have also the honour of attending the Wales children. Except I've not been so well since last autumn.....too much of this!" He held the glass aloft once more. 

"You didn't say, how you were appointed......and in what capacity.......?" He probed. 

"Your driver seems a nice chap......?" Having ignored the question once more, Gull frowned at him with frustration. 

"Who? Oh, Netley? John? Well he's not mine at all really, he's just assigned to me when I need him. He mainly drives for the young Princes nowadays." 

"Oh?"

Sir William found the intense gaze of his guest rather uncomfortable. 

"Well, the eldest, Prince Albert Victor......Eddy as they call him, mainly. His brother Prince George occasionally, but he's away at sea, a Naval cadet. Fine young man! The three girls don't go out much, quiet, homely types, not social butterflies, you might say." 

"And this Netley, what do you know of him?" 

Gull puffed again.

"Why nothing! He's just a driver.....why the interest in him?" 

"Oh, no reason whatever. I'm just curious!" The Doctor shifted in his seat, draining his glass, then sitting forward he began to arrange the tea cups and saucers, before lifting the lid on the teapot, nodding in satisfaction, then pouring two cups and passing one to his host. 

"Tell me about The Queen's grandson." He asked, sitting back and crossing his long legs at the knee.  
"What sort of a young man is he? Fit and healthy is he? Doesn't require your services much I don't suppose!" 

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that!" Sir William answered evasively. "Not even with you! As a Doctor, you know that! The confidentiality of the patient n'all.....sacrosanct......where did you say you trained by the way?" 

"I didn't." The Doctor replied quietly. "But I wasn't really referring to the Prince's medical history. I meant generally. What does he do? Does he have hobbies? That sort of thing." 

"Ah.....I see......well, he studied at Cambridge. But if I'm honest, he's not very bright. I don't really know much about him, especially his lifestyle, it's not really much spoken of....." 

"Ah well! Never mind. I should like very much to meet the young man........but, I doubt I shall!  
Well, it's been most enjoyable Sir William....I've so enjoyed the chat......we must do it again sometime." Rising, the Doctor rung the bell. "But I regret, that I really must get back. I have a report to write." 

"We don't seem to have talked much about you, Doctor......but I suppose your business is all rather cloak and dagger?" 

"It is......and I'm sorry I'm not very forthcoming.....but you understand my need for discretion I'm sure. Lord Salisbury was most particular, and my role is really only an overseeing one."

"But of course.....I'll call for Netley, he'll take you back to your lodgings." The old man pushed himself to his feet. 

"Don't trouble yourself. I'll take a cab, or I might even walk for a bit.....stretch my legs!" 

The two men shook hands in friendly fashion, before the maid returned to show the visitor out. 

Regaining the street, he looked about him for a few moments, taking in the house and grounds, noting every detail, before moving off in the direction of Trafalgar Square. 

He was also aware that a Hansom cab was following his progress, and that John Netley was driving it.


	15. Mission Impossible.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having left Sir William, the Doctor realises he's being followed....

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.  
MISSION IMPOSSIBLE. 

 

The Doctor smiled to himself as he entered the National Portrait Gallery.  
Swarms of well heeled people were milling about, entering the foyer, shaking off their umbrellas. 

Glancing briefly behind him, to check that his 'bloodhound' was still in place, he walked briskly through the halls until he reached a side door near to the Tudor room.  
The eyes of the monarchs hanging there stared balefully at him as he passed their portraits.  
Through the Long Gallery he slipped effortlessly into the assembled throng. 

Finding a staff exit, he whipped out his sonic screwdriver and with a rapid pulse and a click, he was through. 

Down a set of backstairs and out into the drizzle again. 

In seconds he had run, with surprising agility, up Charing Cross Road and hailed himself a cab. 

Plonking himself onto the bench seat inside with a grateful thud, as the horse trotted away, recovering his breath. 

"Ha!" He murmured to himself. "Penguin with its arse on fire, eh? Well! That's as maybe....but I can still shake off a pursuer without too much bother!" 

Meanwhile, John Netley cursed his luck. Walking the halls rapidly, he knew his quarry was lost. 

Returning to Marlborough House. 

He was worried. 

Who the hell was this Doctor fellow? 

Coming here, poking his nose in. Him and his damn little posse.

An assortment of meddlers. 

Well, he might have lost him this time, but he'd find out where he stayed, and who his band of followers were. 

In the meantime, best be careful. 

The net was drawing uncomfortably close. 

oOo 

Nardole and Bill entered the Tardis to find the Doctor seated in his leather armchair on the mezzanine, his fingers steepled in front of his face, eyes closed. 

Deep in thought.....or was he asleep? 

"What are you doing? Skulking in here?" The little bald man demanded. 

The response was an exaggerated huff and a roll of the eyes. 

"For your information, I'm not skulking! I'm thinking!" The long fingers dropped, and were interlaced across his middle. 

"How's the patient?" He enquired, turning his attention to Bill. 

"She's better. Annoyed at being laid up, but sitting up in bed, eating, talking and being lovingly tended to by Madame." 

A slight nod of satisfaction was the only acknowledgement. 

"I've had a most interesting morning." He continued, as his train of thought flitted from one important thing to another. 

"Oh?" Nardole pushed his glasses up his nose and fixed his beady stare onto the face of the Timelord. 

"Question. Why would an eminent, but almost retired physician come all the way to the East End on the pretext of finding out information about the murder of a common prostitute?" 

The Doctor looked up expectantly, apparently awaiting a response, but before one could be offered, he carried on.

"Supposition. Because she's not just a common prostitute, she's someone more special? Or......perhaps he suspects something about the killing and wants to sniff around.....hoping that by showing how important he is, he can engage with someone on the case...... _me_......and subtlely pump them for more information?" 

"Could he be the killer.....you know, returning to the scene, to gloat, or whatever?" Bill wrinkled her nose in distaste. 

"Conjecture. I think not. This man is a bucolic, seventy year old at least, who, to my certain knowledge, has recently had a slight stroke. He is a medical doctor, sworn to attempt to preserve life at all costs. He's genuine, he knows something, but he's not sure what he knows.....or thinks he knows......but he's not our killer.......I somehow can't imagine him sprinting to a waiting cab like an Olympic runner and effecting a clean getaway......can you?" 

Bill shrugged. 

"Perhaps he's just one of these voyeur types.....you know, likes a bit of gore....?" Nardole offered. "Didn't you mention he said the Queen sent him?" 

"Yes." The Timelord began cracking his knuckles one by one. "But I didn't believe that. I think he came of his own volition." 

"Alright! How's this?" Nardole exclaimed. "He's really a shapeshifting alien with a taste for blood and he returned to the scene to enjoy other people's revulsion at his handiwork?" 

To the companions surprise, the Doctor did not scoff or dismiss the notion, instead, he carried on thoughtfully. 

"Nardole, I want you to do a little detective work.......be my Dr Watson!" 

"You want me to investigate Sir William Gull?" If the alien companion had possessed eyebrows, he would have raised them. 

"No! I want you to fish around and find all you can about John Netley. He's Gull's coachman. But he also drives a Hansom, and he also works for the Queen's grandson. I'm almost sure he's the man I saw last night. He's similar in looks to the description Israel Schwartz gave us. There's definitely something about him that I don't like. Something distinctly shady. Oh......and he tried to follow me when I left Marlborough House!" 

Nardole pouted. 

"Why me? Why can't Strax do it?" The pale face wrinkled with discontent. 

"Because Strax sticks out like a sore thumb!" 

The Doctor turned towards his friend, eying him up and down. 

"Mind you......so do you! You need to change. So you blend in more......" 

Nardole looked down at himself with incredulity. 

"Why? What's wrong with an orange duffle coat and a bobble hat? It's timeless." 

"No! It isn't! It's bloody conspicuous! And we are aiming for 'discreet'........" 

"What do you want to me find out about him?" He huffed, fingering the toggles on his front fondly. 

"I want to know how long he's been in the Royal employ. Where he comes from, his background, and which nights, if any, he was working. I want to know where he takes his Royal Prince, when he's not toting his elderly physician.....I want to know everything.....from what he has for breakfast to the last time he blew his nose......everything......" 

"Okay. I'm on it!" 

Nardole shuffled away, leaving Bill standing next to the Doctor' chair. 

"What about me? What can I do?" She asked. 

"You and I are going to do a little breaking and entering....." The Timelord replied, with a naughty twinkle in his eye. 

"That doesn't sound legal!" 

"That's because it isn't......but I'd like to see a certain doctor's medical notes.....and I don't think I'm going to get to see them through invitation." 

"Oh my G........! You've got a theory.....haven't you? You know something?  
I know that look......I've _seen_ that look......it's the _'I suspect something but I'm not going to let on until I can do a massive Hercule Poirot reveal'_ thing.......that's it, isn't it? What do you know? Tell me! ......Doctor?" 

Bill clutched her friend's shoulder urgently. 

To her surprise, his hand came up and covered hers. Patting gently. 

"I know nothing. Not yet. I need to be sure, and I can't go round making idle accusations.....the people involved may potentially be.....well......that would be telling!" 

He gave a little smile of wry amusement. 

"Well, in that case, I'm going to change too.....I feel the urge for jeans and trainers......" Bill declared, holding out her long frock as if it were the most impractical thing ever. "I can't go burgling in this!" 

"Hmm. Probably a wise decision." The Timelord responded with a comical raise of one eyebrow. 

She spoke quickly now, waving her arms animatedly to emphasise her words. 

"How are we going to get in though? I mean.....it must totally be guarded and have locks to pick......or bolts....or chains....top notch security for the time and stuff! They have security, right? They must have.  
Do we sneak past, crack the doorman over the head, fire a grappling hook up the wall? You know.....all _'Mission Impossible'_ like!" 

There was a thrill in her voice, eyes wide and bright, as the excitement of inveigling her way into potential trouble, alongside the Doctor, caught her and swept her up in its promise of adventure. 

"Mission Impossible?" The mobile face registered puzzlement. 

"Oh _God!_ Don't tell me....you've not seen it?" Bill held out her hands in exasperation. "It's a movie.....a series of movies.....Tom Cruise....brilliant soundtrack......action packed....loads of breaking into places, hiding in the shadows, in black gear and a balaclava......." Her voice tailed off. 

"Er, no......we're going in the Tardis......" He replied simply.


	16. Burglar Bill.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor and Bill return to Gull's surgery in the dead of night.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the information on John Netley is true. (Apart from working for Marlborough House.)
> 
> The 1883 assassination attempt is taken from the Seventh Doctor/Ace episode The Ghost Light.
> 
> The third Doctor claimed to have attended Victoria's coronation. (The Curse of Peladon.)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.  
BURGLAR BILL.

The wee small hours of the morning. 

The asthmatic wheeze of the Tardis ceased. 

"Now, if I got the coordinates right......." The Doctor opened the door gingerly and peered out. 

The Time Machine was parked neatly, in the corner of the room, right behind the door. 

It was quite dark, the house silent and still. 

Sir William had long ago departed, home to his wife in Grosvenor Square, as The Doctor hoped. 

He listened intently, one ear to the door for a few moments, but nothing was stirring. 

"Bill!" His voice no more than a hiss. 

"I'm here!" She whispered back. 

Taking two torches, they crept over to the shelves, where he'd seen the carefully labelled files earlier. 

"Anything particular I'm looking for? Any year?" She asked, keeping her volume low. 

"Not sure! Not really sure what I'm looking for at all.....I'm hoping I'll know it when I see it......" Came the reply. 

The beam of the torch moved across the neat rows of octavo notebooks. 

"How about 1883?" Bill asked, as The Doctor took down a volume and began flicking through the pages, stopping here and there to read briefly, before moving on. Sweeping the light of his torch over the page, to illuminate the spidery handwriting. 

"That was a good year.....I met The Queen then....thwarted an assassination attempt....if I remember correctly.....!" 

His companion stared at him, mouth agape. 

_"NO WAY?"_ She exclaimed. "You've met Queen Victoria? That's _awesome!"_

"Yes! _Way!"_ The Timelord replied, matter-of-factly, not looking up from his reading. "Several times, in fact....I was at her Coronation!" 

_"Oh my God!_ See.....this is what's so astonishing about you......" Bill declared, in complete awe.  
"You've seen _so_ much.....touched so many people's lives.....it's just amazing, _you're_ amazing!" 

She suddenly enveloped her friend in a warm hug. 

"Thanks for bringing me!" She breathed, giving his arm a playful thump. The Doctor was about to respond, clearly embarrassed, to tell her that there was really no need to thank him and that he enjoyed her company. 

A sudden sound broke the pair's little moment. 

The Doctor put a long index finger to his lips.

"Shhhhh!" 

Key in lock. Turning. Voices. Lantern light shining under the door. 

Motioning to his companion and pointing to the floor, the two slid gracefully down behind a large sofa.  
Just as the door opened and a liveried footman peeped in. 

"I'm sure I heard something!" He was saying to another, who stood directly behind him. 

"Well, I didn't hear a thing! You're imagining it.....no one comes in here when this Lordship isn't here.....it's silent as the grave." 

The lantern was held aloft, it's light streaming into the room. 

From behind the settee, the two held a collective breath. 

"Nah. There's nothing! Come on, we've got work to do." 

The light retreated, the door shut gently and locked again. 

The Doctor and Bill Potts let out a puff of relief. 

"Come on, we must be quick and get out of here.....before we are caught and sent to the Tower!" He whispered, standing, and returning to the bookcase. 

Each taking down another volume, they began thumbing through the contents again, resuming their search. 

"Which one have you got?" Bill enquired. 

"1873.....you?" 

"1879......it's all pretty run of the mill stuff.......there's mention here of Her Majesty returning from Balmoral, having stayed on the MacLeish Estate overnight, unexpectedly."

The Doctor stopped his own reading and looked up dully. 

"Is that interesting? The name sounds familiar. What does it say?" 

"It says........hang on......" Bill's eyes swept the page......"Argh....well, nothing much really.....just that Sir William had been called to treat Her Majesty on her return from Balmoral, for a scratch on the back of her hand which had turned septic......that's it really......all the entries are like this....."

"Let me see!" The urgency with which the Timelord almost pulled the file from Bill's hands surprised her. 

"Its nothing significant, surely? All this has nothing whatever to do with the murders, or the Ripper, or anything else......it's just a random entry, a cut hand.....she could have had a fall, or got a splinter, or a dog bit her......anything...." 

"I don't know, but it rings a vague bell...." The Doctor paused for thought for a moment.

"Nope...nothing....zilch...but I can't be expected to remember everything, centuries may have passed. It's probably not important on its own anyway.  
It was really the young Prince Eddy I was interested in.....I don't know, something Gull said about him, piqued my curiousity. He said the Prince's lifestyle wasn't much talked about.......why?  
He's a Prince for God's sake! Every time he so much as sneezes, everyone wants to know where the pepper came from. He's the eldest son of the heir to the Throne......and then there's that man Netley......I'm almost sure it was him driving the Hansom when Jenny was attacked......now who would he be driving around the East End in the dead of night?" 

"Well, there are hardly any entries at all for the Prince......he's certainly not unhealthy!"  
Bill was turning the pages and perusing each one.  
"The odd chesty cough for one of the Princesses, a sprained ankle after a fall from a horse for Prince George.......nothing much else.......what about you? Anything?" 

"Nope. Not a damn thing. You know....maybe I'm completely crazy.....I've been told it often enough. I just thought......I dunno......perhaps my clever theory was bunkum!" The Doctor huffed with frustration. 

"I found one small entry here, a couple of pages after the other one....... _'the Prince Albert Victor cut his leg whilst visiting his grandmama at Windsor. Her Majesty insisted on tending the wound herself. On examination a superficial graze which was treated with petroleum jelly and soon healed.'_ That's it." 

Bill sighed.

"Hopeless!" The Doctor banged the sides of his head alarmingly with the palms of his hands.  
"I'm sure there was something.......something I missed......that's the trouble with living an awfully long time. Regeneration is a lottery......sometimes the process just fries some of the memory synapses!" 

"There's nothing here Doctor. Whatever you thought might be the case.....maybe you were mistaken? Barking up the wrong tree......let's go.....before someone finds us here." 

With everything replaced as it was before they'd arrived, the two returned to the Tardis and seconds later rematerialised in the mews courtyard at Paternoster Row. 

oOo

Walking into the dining room, a delicious smell pervaded the air. 

Everyone was seated around the table, except Strax, who was busy carving a very large joint of meat.

"Mmmmm!" The Doctor murmured, salivating. "Is that roast beef? I _love_ roast beef!" 

Seating himself in a vacant chair, without waiting for invitation, he pulled a plate towards him, picked up a knife and fork and rested them on end against the table, upright in his hands, glancing around expectantly. 

The others, who had been watching him with amusement, now burst into a fit of giggles. 

His eyes scanned them all again, his injured expression clear to see. 

"What?" He challenged. 

Then deciding they were all having a joke at his expense, he rebuffed them and continued. 

"Are there Yorkshire puddings too? Yorkshire puddings are my favourite!" 

Bill exploded. 

"You just like _food_!" She exclaimed. "You said before that Chinese was your favourite, and then Mexican.....and Nardole told me you love sushi......you'll eat anything!" 

For a moment the Doctor looked hurt, then with a shrug of acceptance, he grinned,  
"Meh! Whatever!"  
Before tucking into his plateful with gusto. 

Between mouthfuls, he spoke animatedly, waving his knife around and using it as a pointer. 

"How is my lovely patient?" He enquired of Jenny, with a cheeky wink.  
Seated opposite him, her arm still strapped to her chest, she was eating with a fork only. Her food having been cut up for her by an ever attentive Madame Vastra. 

"I'm good!" She replied. "A bit sore, but good......anxious to get back into the swing....." 

"And my faithful arse kicker? What did you find out? Fact me!" He demanded, turning his attention to Nardole. 

Nardole gave a frown, then rolled his eyes. 

"Honestly!" He huffed. "You can be really irritating at times, you know that?" 

"But also charming, ever so witty, and very clever, not to mention outrageously handsome!" The Timelord quipped, looking around the table for conformation. 

"Modest too!" Vastra smiled ironically, then turned to Bill, who was still standing beside the Doctor, laughing. 

"Are you joining us? You must be ravenous after your night time felony! We don't have set eating times here, we eat when we're hungry. Day or night!" 

"Yes.....sit yourself down, boy! Take a plate." Strax cut in, pulling out a chair for her. 

"I'm not a b......oh never mind!" Bill gave up. 

"Well, come on Nardole, spill the beans.....Netley......is he a rogue and a vagabond?" The Doctor spoke through a cheek full of Yorkshire. 

"Yes he is. Pretty much. Or was. Gregson helped me track down some records. He's led a fairly dissolute life by all accounts. Petty theft, breach of the peace, the odd brawl, he's been up before the Beak on several occasions. Then seemingly went straight, landed a job as a goodsman, driving a wagon for a greengrocer from the Fruit Market, following that he was employed by Marlborough House on the letter of recommendation from his last employer. Said to be 'honest, hard working and fiercely loyal'. 'Very steady' according to the reference.  
He's been working there since the 1st February, without sick leave, drunkenness or bad attendance." 

"Hmm. February! Isn't that when you first noticed murders popping up randomly, Madame?" 

"Yes, a stabbing, on the 28th. Annie Millwood." Vastra replied. "Although those first killings weren't as brutal as the last five. The Police don't connect them with this so called 'Ripper', they categorise them as just random attacks, but I'm not so sure. The M.O is similar and the circumstances too, and the victims were all 'ladies of the night' in one form or another." 

"I want to know where he takes his young Prince......that's something that interests me greatly. I think I'll pay a early visit to Inspector Abberline, at his home......anyone fancy a little jaunt?" 

The Doctor pushed away his empty plate, before sitting back he rubbed his tummy appreciatively. 

"That was excellent Strax......I'm impressed by your culinary prowess." 

"Why, thank you Doctor. I'm glad you approve." The Sontaran gave a little gracious bow.


	17. Memory Jog.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An early morning visit to Inspector Abberline brings back old memories for The Doctor....

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.  
MEMORY JOG.

This time no one moaned during the carriage ride. 

Jenny was seated beside Madame, cradling her injured arm.  
Strax was under strict instructions not to drive too fast, and to avoid the jolts. He obeyed to the letter of the law, and the Doctor, peering out, was thinking that he could quite easily walk alongside the coach and still get there with the rest. 

Bill was oddly silent, for her. Usually so positive and animated about everything she saw and heard.  
Not on this occasion.  
Subdued to the point of sullenness. 

Nardole didn't speak either, but sat eating monkey nuts from a brown paper bag.  
Popping open the fibrous outer shell with a crunch every so often, then chomping on the kernels from inside noisily.  
His lap and the floor littered with the husk debris. 

The Doctor watched him for a few moments with a cross frown. 

"Do you _have_ to do that?" He asked eventually. 

Nardole looked up to find that everyone was now looking at him. 

"I was peckish!" He retorted, defensively. 

"You've just eaten a roast dinner." Jenny pointed out, voicing what they were all thinking. 

"Oh leave me alone!" He snapped. "I have a very quick metabolism!"

"We're here!" Came a timely Sontaran voice from the buck board outside, accompanied by a knocking on the roof with his whip handle. 

oOo

Inspector Abberline was a man with all the worries of the world on his shoulders. 

Sitting at his small kitchen table finishing his morning cup of tea, and a boiled egg, he was preparing to start on what he considered would likely be another fruitless day.  
There were no leads.  
Not a real clue as to whom this fiend could be. He feared riots and mayhem. He also feared for the hundreds of women, who's lives were apparently so expendable.  
Knowing more than any man, having lived and worked amongst the Eastenders for so many years, how desperate the lives of some of these ladies were. There was very little they could do to earn a crust, just to keep themselves alive. It was a daily struggle. To provide a morsel, clothing and shelter, for themselves or their dependants.  
Used and abused by all and sundry, they had little choice and no way out. 

But Frederick Abberline cared. 

These lives were not worthless to him....

.....and more than anything else he wanted to prevent more killing. 

He just wished he had some lead.....some clue......

oOo

The knock at the door was so sudden that he was jolted out of his reverie and almost tipped over his teacup. 

Seeing the assemblage on his doorstep was quite a surprise. 

"What brings you all here?" He enquired, stepping back to allow the group to enter. 

"We've come for a pow-wow!" The Doctor stated, seating himself, uninvited, at the table and sipping from Abberline's tea. "This is good! Got any more?" He asked, somewhat rudely. 

oOo

"Netley is involved, I'm convinced of it......I think Gull is unconnected, it's not just coincidence that the man drives for him too.......but I'm interested in where he takes his young Princeling. And there's no way I can go blundering in there to ask questions, not without police authority. Gull is suspicious of me as it is." 

The Inspector was incredulous. 

"But you can't think......surely? That the Prince is somehow involved......it's impossible! It's ludicrous.......it's......well......it's just.......nonsense." 

"Well, I'm certain it was Netley the other night, and I think he knows I know......his face changed when I noted the damaged Hansom at Marlborough House......he also followed me after I left Sir William.  
He's fiercely loyal, but more to the point, he's afraid........I'm scared that if we get too close something bad will happen....." 

From close by came the sound of a dog barking. 

The Doctor paused, mid speech, listening. 

"What......?" He said quietly, his head cocked on one side. 

"That's Brutus.......he's in the yard." Abberline explained. "He's an Alsatian, but he'll be all over you if I let him in.....he doesn't like being out there when he knows I have guests......scared he's missing something......but he'll have to stay where he is!" 

"I just know _I'M_ missing something......" The Timelord continued distractedly. "I know there's some piece of the puzzle that's right there.....under my nose.....and I'm not seeing it....... _why_ am I not seeing it?"  
He tapped the sides of his head with annoyance. 

"You're not seeing it because you're too close....." Bill remarked. 

"What.......? Shut up!" Came the dismissive retort.

".......you need to step back, not think inside the box......" She continued, not fazed by the petulant outburst. ".........don't think about what you DON'T know, but what you do......that's what my mum always says......."

"But your mum is.....well......she....... _died_......." Nardole began. 

"In my head......." Bill replied apologetically. "......she said it in my h......." 

_"WILL EVERYBODY PLEASE.......SHUT UP.....SHUT UP......."_

From outside an intrusive howling could now be heard, mournful, wailing, filling both the yard and the small kitchen.  
A hell hound, beginning deep, then rising to a crescendo, before beginning again. 

_"Aowwwwwww! Aaaaoooooooowwwww!"_

_"SOMEONE SHUT THAT BLOODY DOG UP TOO_.........I'm trying to think........" 

The sound continued unabated, causing everyone in the room to wince. Nardole put his hands over his ears. Abberline went to quieten the animal. 

The Doctor stood, then began to pace the kitchen, his hand resting on the top of his head, the fingers tugging at his silver hair.  
Muttering under his breath......"That sound! _Shut up, shut up, shuttity up, up, up....."_  
His eyes were wide and wild, as the thought processes in his brain fought each other for dominance.

He turned with such suddenness towards Bill that she jumped out of her skin. Jabbing a long finger at her. 

_"YOU!"_ He cried. "At Gull's place last night........1879........" Waving his hands in front of Bill's face. "....de-shut up......tell me......what did you read......?" 

Bill raised her eyebrows for a moment, thinking hard. What HAD she read? Nothing of importance. 

She hesitated.

"I don't know......I.....it was nothing......." she stammered. 

The howling from the backyard grew more forceful, like a baying wolf that had sighted its quarry, and the hunt was on. 

The hands waved in her face, fingers waggling.

 _"YES! Yes!"_ He cried, growing more and more agitated. "Tell me......come on! _COME ON!"_

"Er, the Queen had been to Balmoral........and stayed with um....Charles MacLeish...... um...... unexpectedly......."

 _"YES! YES!_ Carry on......." The excitement in the Timelord's face was almost boyish, his enthusiasm bright and shining, as he stood in front of Bill, flapping his arms dementedly, as the others looked on in evident confusion. 

"She, er......had a septic hand.......that's it......." The young woman shrugged her shoulders, defeated. 

_"THAT'S IT!"_ He shouted. _"The Howling! Howling at the moon!_ And what did you say? What did you say......after that......dear, clever, wonderful, Bill?" 

His companion gaped. Trying to recall. 

"I said.......I said, I said, it was nothing, she could have got a splinter, or been bitten by a dog....." The words came out in a rush. 

_"YES!!!!!"_

Bill found her shoulders seized by the Timelord, shaken slightly, almost bunted up and down in his eagerness.

The others were looking at him as if he'd gone quite, quite mad. 

Turning to them all, he put his hands in the air and waved them frantically. 

"She was! I was there! _ME!_ Or rather.......earlier me........not this me......" The voice dropped low. 

"You mean, bow-tie you?" Vastra asked, confused. 

_"NO......!"_ The Doctor swung round to face her directly. 

".......the one before......' _allons y'_.......Converse........great hair......I had really great hair........" 

"You still have......." Jenny murmured quietly, causing everyone to turn and look at her in surprise, making her blush furiously. 

_"HA!"_ The Doctor exploded, ignoring the remark but looking terribly pleased with himself.  
"THAT'S IT! That's the link...... _that's_ what I was missing! Oh Lordy! But it all makes perfect sense now!" 

Then he stopped short. Sank down in an adjacent chair, his shoulders dropping. 

_"Oh!"_ He whispered quietly, a hand over his mouth, as some awful truth dawned on him. _"Oh!"_

"What, Doctor.....? _'Oh',_ what? What is it that you've remembered?" Bill was eager now, caught up in her friend's mood. 

The eyes that raised to meet hers were swimming. 

"Oh dear.......this is.....well.....if it's what I think.......I mean.....it wasn't my theory at all. My theory was that Netley was somehow......but if it's _this_.......it's far, far worse........" 

His head went into his hands. 

"......and _this_ is the part you never tell me!" Bill bent and pulled his fingers away in exasperation, forcing the Timelord to look at her. " _This_ is where you go all ruddy mysterious and clam up......" 

The Doctor was shaking his head, as if the memories were raw and painful. 

"I was there." He said, in a hushed whisper. "Torchwood House. I saved her. _We_.....saved her. Me and Rose......."  
His face was clouded now, filled with the recollections which the howling dog had bought to mind, a tear balanced precariously on the edge of his lashes, before tumbling over and rolling down the cheek. 

"She knighted us both. Afterwards. Then she told me to get the hell off her planet!" 

"Who did? The Queen? Doctor, don't do this! You mean _Queen Victoria?_ Where? What the _hell_ had this to do with....?" 

Madame Vastra knelt at the Timelord knee, her scaly hand resting there gently. 

"Tell us Doctor......"

"She said it was a scratch.....nothing more.......a splinter, she said......" His voice wobbled dramatically. "But it bit her, it must have done.....and somehow she's passed it on...... _OH GOD!"_

The Doctor held his head again, rubbing at his face hard. 

"I must see The Queen." He breathed. " _Now!_ It's imperative! Fetch Strax.......we must go to Gull.......maybe his influence......he can get us in.....we need an urgent audience with _HER MAJESTY!!"_ The emphasis on the last two words caused everyone in the room to freeze, as if struck by lightning. 

Standing up , The Doctor looked from one to the other desperately, but still no one moved. 

"Well, come _ON!"_ He cried. " This is terribly important." 

"But aren't you going to tell us........" Jenny began, breaking the silence. 

"No time now......." The Doctor cut her off. ".......when we get to Sir William's......then I'll explain, but right now, time is of the essence." 

oOo

Together they left the house of Frederick Abberline. 

The Inspector, closing and locking the front door behind them. 

It was raining again, and Strax drew their own coach to the opposite curb, waiting atop patiently. 

"You take the carriage." The Timelord ordered, addressing his friends. "Fred here and I, we'll hail a cab, won't we Fred?" 

Just as he said these words, a Hansom rounded the corner.  
Seeing it, the Doctor stepped into the street, one arm raised to attract the driver's attention. 

The others watched in horror, as the cabbie seemed to spot him and cracked his whip over the horses head, urging the animal forwards. 

Jenny screamed. 

_"DOCTOR!! WATCH OUT!!"_

It was at the very last moment, as the whole vehicle bore down upon him, that Bill launched herself, clinging on tight, pushing the Timelord out of the path of both the flying hooves and the wheels.  
The pair rolling over and over, locked together, ending up in the mud at the side of the road, narrowly avoiding being run over by a cart coming the other way. 

In seconds the cab had disappeared, leaving the two lying inert in the gutter.


	18. An Unexpected Visit.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang turn up at Sir William's house in Grosvenor Square. 
> 
> The Doctor is NOT happy........

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.  
AN UNEXPECTED VISIT. 

A small crowd gathered at the roadside. 

Abberline, Nardole, Jenny and Madame Vastra parted them and hurried to the side of their two friends. 

Bill, grazed, but very much alive, groaned and sat up, rubbing her bruised elbows and knees. Looking down into the face of The Doctor, who had been rendered unconscious by the fall. 

"Doctor!" She cried, scrambling to her feet. 

"Is he hurt?" Abberline asked, kneeling down on the edge of the pavement. 

The Timelord opened his eyes, staring from one to the other of the sea of faces above him. 

"That was Netley!" He whispered. "And now I'm really _very_ angry!" 

Together the gang helped him to his feet, swaying slightly, but regaining his equilibrium rapidly.  
He accepted an arm from Bill and from Madame, as they led him towards the waiting carriage. 

Frederick Abberline stopped a passing police constable, exchanging a brief word with him, after which the young officer hurried away. 

"I'll go in a Hansom with Bill." Jenny suggested. "You go with the others Doctor, we'll meet you there." 

This idea seemingly acceptable, the Timelord allowed himself to be helped inside, and sat down with a puff. 

"I am _not_ happy!" He snarled, looking down at his muddy clothes, before touching the side of his head with a wince, as a lump began to form there. 

oOo

 _"POLICE! Open in the name of the Law!"_

It was a terrified maid who ran to answer the insistent hammering on the door of the smart house in Grosvenor Square, and was immediately brushed aside as soon as the portal opened. 

"Where is your master?" Demanded Abberline, as he entered, closely followed by the tall, imposing figure of the Doctor, Madame Vastra, wielding a long curved blade, and Nardole, with his hands in his duffle coat pockets. 

Indicating a door on the lefthand side of the vestibule, the young girl fled for the servants quarters. 

Sir William leapt to his feet as they all plunged into the room where he was seated at his leisure, with a tray of coffee and his newspaper. 

"What is the meaning of this?" He exclaimed. 

His eyes swept across the assembled company.  
Firstly the Inspector who looked 'normal', then the Doctor, besmirched as he was with dirt from the road, wild haired, dishevelled and looking extremely irate; Strax, brown and dwarf-like, but quite unlike any form he'd ever encountered in his life before; Nardole, pale and otherworldly, then lastly.....a woman with startling marine eyes who resembled a reptile, holding a weapon menacingly over her head. 

"How dare you burst in here......" He protested, reaching for the bell pull behind his head. 

"Don't bother." It was The Doctor who spoke first, closing his hand menacingly over that of the gentleman, preventing him from tugging the chord. "No one is coming, and you, _Sir_ , are going to answer a few questions." 

The Baronet blustered his response. 

"I most certainly will not! I'll have you all arrested for this, it's breaking and entering, forcing your way into a man's home! Abberline! _Why!_ I'll have you kicked off the force! And _YOU!_ Doctor.....you'll be struck off the Medical Register for this outrage." 

"Allow me to twist his thumbs until they face the wrong way." Strax threatened, stepping forwards. 

_"Be quiet!_ Save your breath!" The Timelord replied sharply, through his teeth. "The Inspector is doing his duty, _Sir,_ and I'm not on any register, Medical or otherwise......now then.....I suggest you _SIT!"_

The last word was spoken with such force that the elderly man lowered himself obediently into his chair, clamping his mouth shut. 

"So! Here we are." The Doctor began. "I don't think you were entirely honest with me at our last meeting, were you, Sir William?" 

"Apparently, I could say the same for you!" The old man retorted defiantly. 

"Ah.....but there's a subtle difference......I told you nothing much about myself, for your own good, whereas _YOU,_ told _me_ a pack of lies." 

"I did no such thing......" The physician protested. 

"So I ask myself..." Continued the Timelord, as if he hadn't heard. ".......who are you protecting? Hmmm? The Queen? The Royal Prince? _SPEAK!"_

"You'd best tell us what you know." Abberline cut in. "'Else it'll be worse for you." 

"Netley! You say he works for the household, but he does your bidding too......did you send him after me? To shut me up? Stop me snooping around?" The Doctor sat himself in a chair opposite his counterpart. 

None of his companions stirred. 

Quietly, behind them, the door opened once more, to admit Jenny and Bill, both of whom moved to stand either side of the Timelord, Bill placing her hand on the back of his chair. 

Gull held his head in his hands, his shoulders beginning to shake. 

"I didn't......I swear!" He cried. " I just asked him to frighten you, to scare you off.....I _HAD_ to.....you were getting too close."

"Too close to your little secret? Except it isn't little, is it Doctor Gull? It's very serious indeed.....and you don't know what to do, do you? Because you don't know what's wrong with him......" 

"With whom?" Bill asked. 

The Gallifreyan flashed her a look, prompting her to silence, before speaking again. 

"With your precious Prince Eddy! When did you first notice the change, mmm, Sir William? After the return from Windsor was it? Later perhaps? Just subtle little changes at first, insomnia, a temper maybe? Or did Her Majesty alert you? Ask you to take a look at him? Her favourite Grandson......?" 

"It was Her Majesty, yes. She suspected something was wrong. It was she who asked me to look into the killings.....she _DID_ send me, I was telling the truth there, she was afraid you see......so terribly afraid......" The voice tailed off as he looked from one to the other of the grave faces surrounding him.  
"What could I do? It was Her Majesty!" 

"And you would do anything to protect your beloved Royal Family. Wouldn't you Sir William? With every ounce of your being. Even if it meant covering up hideous crimes? Was that why you saw to it that Netley was hired? Because as an ex-felon you could count on his silence? His loyalty? His discretion? For a price?" 

"Yes! God help me! Yes!" The old man began to weep. 

Rising, the Doctor laid a gentle hand on the shoulder. 

"But it got out of hand didn't it? When did you first suspect his nocturnal meanderings?" 

Looking up into the pale eyes of the Timelord, the gentleman's jowly face was pink, liberally smeared with tears. 

"He's always been a bit diffident, a bit of a rake. Liked the ladies.....everyone turned a blind eye. He's a young man, raffish, he has needs, desires.....there was nothing in it....and we could easily hush it up..." 

Jenny let out a scoff of contempt. 

"Yeah! 'Course! An' he's rich too, so he can do what he bloody likes!" She scowled. "Never mind about the poor girls, eh? What were they? A fair price to pay to keep 'im happy? Fourpence, coz he can't keep it in 'is trousers? Shame on him....and all the toffs like 'im. Who think that women can be treated like dirt, coz they can't afford to live any other way!" 

Vastra laid a hand over that of her spouse.

"Hush, my love, now isn't the time......" She said softly. 

The peer continued, the shame clear in his tone.

"But then, something happened. Something changed. He lost his temper.....Netley had to stop him, pull him away.....he came to see me afterwards. Said when he looked at him, his eyes were like coal, black like.....like a demon, gave John quite a turn. Frightened the life out of him." 

"And what did you do?" The Doctor asked, not unkindly. 

"Gave him a hypnotic, to help him sleep.....I suggested to Her Majesty.....they send him away to Sandringham, for a rest and to get him out of London. He was fine there. Absolutely fine. He was.......!" 

"I think we should go and pay a visit to Her Majesty. What say you Sir William? I think it's time. We cannot allow this situation to continue. Innocent people are being hurt, maimed, brutally killed, there is a potential riot about to bubble over on the streets of the slums of the East End. Only we can put a stop to this." 

"I'll call for Netley." Gull rose to his feet with a sigh of resignation. 

"I think you'll find John Netley is already in custody." Abberline remarked, with a hint of triumph. "My officers will have tracked him down by now, he'll be held for questioning, then formally arrested and charged."

"He won't talk." Sir William replied. "You'll get nothing out of him." 

"No matter!" The inspector retorted. "For now we have bigger fish to fry!" 

"I could make him talk." Strax growled. "I could make him sing like a canary!" 

_"STRAX!"_ Madame hissed. 

"Sorry! Old habits!" The Sontaran sounded distinctly unapologetic. 

"To Buckingham Palace!" The Timelord announced. "Come along one and all. We'll borrow your own Brougham from the Mews, and Strax can take our carriage. We need you with us Sir William. She'll consent to see you at a moments notice. This one is beyond the realms of my psychic paper, I fear." 

The group trooped out to the rear of the house, through a neat garden and out into the mews behind, where the eminent Doctor kept a horse of his own and a fine coach. 

Bill, seated beside the Doctor, linked her arm through his. 

"Are you sure you're okay?" She asked quietly. "That was quite a tumble, earlier." 

Her friend allowed her a little smile, resting his hand over hers as it lay on his sleeve. 

"I'm fine Bill. Thanks to your quick thinking. No more than a bump on the head.....might even knock some sense into me!" He replied warmly. 

"Not much chance of that!" Nardole said, with feeling. 

"This isn't going to be pleasant, is it?" She asked. 

"I very much doubt it." The Doctor answered, a hint of sadness in his voice. "But we must see what can be done."


	19. Her Majesty.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buckingham Palace. 
> 
> Her Majesty is definitely 'not amused' 
> 
> But there are some truths she has to face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you've undoubtedly worked out by now, the link here is the Russell T Davies episode "Tooth and Claw" from the second New Who series. With David Tennant and Rose Tyler. 
> 
> I wondered if anyone would notice that Dr James McCrimmon is the name The Doctor (Tennant) gives to Queen Victoria's guard in Tooth and Claw, and that he 'trained in Edinburgh under Bell himself' (Bell allegedly being the man on whom Conan Doyle based Sherlock Holmes) but didn't want to give away the spoiler too soon! 
> 
> I rewatched it the other day for the first time in a while and had forgotten how good it was. There was a bit of silliness, but the story was a strong one, and links into this story nicely. 
> 
> All will be revealed!!!

CHAPTER NINETEEN.  
HER MAJESTY. 

Sir William's coach was well known to the staff at The Palace. 

It passed through the heavy wrought iron gates without incident moving under the central proscenium archway. 

Once into the courtyard beyond, it swung round and halted in front of the main entrance, under a stone canopy supported by sturdy columns, which protected guests from the elements when they arrived. 

The Timelord turned to address Madame. 

"Vastra, I'm sorry, but you and Strax must stay here. We cannot be sure of our welcome, in fact it's likely to be hostile. The sight of you two may mean we don't even get an audience." 

"I understand Doctor. But if your reception is favourable, perhaps you will send down for us?" 

"Of course I will." 

The remaining group were lead into a reception chamber. 

High ceilings, stucco plasterwork, pictures, portraits, pieces of sculpture, lush green leaved plants in tall vases, porcelain figurines, pieces of silver, opulent and ornate.  
Everything of the very finest quality, and all highly decorative. 

Jenny's mouth gaped open in wonder. 

"Cor! Look at this lot! 'Ow the other 'alf live, eh?" She breathed. 

"The trappings of wealth and consequence Jen. The price one pays for living a life in the public eye. I'm sure Her Majesty would far rather be somewhere well away from here, where the eyes of the world aren't constantly watching her." 

"A very astute observation, Sir!" Said a cultured voice behind him. 

oOo

The Doctor had forgotten how small she was. 

A little more round since the last time perhaps. Hair a tad more grey. But just as indomitable. 

Steely gaze from very blue eyes, which took him in, looking him up and down, weighing him and his colleagues in one sweep. 

"What is the meaning of this rag-tag circus troupe you have bought to my door Sir William?" She demanded, turning to her physician, choosing to ignore the deep bows and curtsies of the assembled company. 

"Please forgive me ma'am!" The gentleman began, bowing low himself and taking the outstretched Royal hand lightly by the fingers.  
"But I'm afraid the situation with the young Prince has become dangerous.....I had to....." 

Inspector Abberline came forward. 

"Ma'am. We apologise greatly for the intrusion. But I come here seeking answers. I am faced with crimes of such a hideous nature that the people are clamouring for blood. I will have street violence on a large scale on my hands. Jew against Gentile, poor against poorer......it will result in carnage if I cannot bring this murderous rampage to an end. We beg a few moments of your time." 

"And who are _these_ people?" The little woman faced the rest.  
" _You Sir....._ " An accusative finger was pointed. ".......who resembles one who might have been trampled by a herd of buffalo, and _you_ , young lady, from the furthest parts of our African dominions, if I'm not mistaken, and these others who trail in your wake? What bearing do they have on this most private of matters?" 

Sir William effected an introduction. 

"Ma'am, may I present, Miss Bill Potts and Miss Jenny Flint....." 

Her Majesty offered her hand to both women. 

"You have recently been in the wars I see?" She remarked, looking at Jenny's arm. 

"This young woman was attacked by the one they call The Ripper, ma'am, in an attempt to catch him, she was extremely brave and had a very lucky escape." Abberline interposed. 

The Queen's eyes widened, and she staggered back slightly. 

_"MA'AM!"_ Cried Gull, in alarm. "A chair for Her Majesty! Quickly!" 

The Doctor seized the nearest seat and bought it over, placing it behind the diminutive Queen and assisting her to lower herself down into it.  
Bill reached for a fan from the mantle, and gently wafted a breeze of air over the Monarch's face. 

It was a few moments only before she recovered herself. 

"Thank you my dear." She said softly, looking up at the kind eyes of her helper.

"Tha's okay! Not surprising you went all of a do-da!" Bill replied, forgetting all etiquette. "You've had a bit of a shock!" 

"And who are _you_......?" Her attention turned to Nardole. 

"I'm Nardole! And I'm with 'im!" The companion cocked his thumb at The Doctor, who, up until now had remained silent. 

"I see." Her Majesty retorted, then fixed her gaze on the Timelord. 

"And what happened to you?" She asked. 

"I was almost hit by a coach ma'am. Sent by your faithful servant here....." He glanced at Sir William. "To get me out of the way......because I was clearly getting too close. I know the truth! That's why I'm here." 

Standing suddenly, with a flash of anger, the monarch glared angrily at her trusted physician.

"So!" She exclaimed. "It has come to this. I can trust no one! Am I to be embroiled in an assassination attempt? This is terrible!" 

"Yes ma'am!" The Doctor interrupted. "And it has gone too far......" 

Slumping back into the chair, Queen Victoria turned pale. 

"And who might you be? The bringer of doom upon me? What is it that you purport to know?" 

"I am The Doctor." He replied, his voice low, only a rumble in his throat. 

"A Doctor?" She repeated. 

"No! _THE_ Doctor! I am _THE_ Doctor." 

The pale eyes bore into those of the Timelord for several moments. 

"Have we met?" She asked sternly. 

"Yes ma'am. Some ten years ago......for you." 

The Royal brow creased. 

"Where? I don't recall it. And I NEVER forget a face." 

"In Scotland.....and this isn't the face I had when I last saw you......." Came the tentative reply. 

The silence was thick between them. Eyes held eyes. Neither quailing nor flinching. 

_"Doctor James McCrimmon?_ Trained in Edinburgh under Bell himself?" Her Majesty's tone became sarcastic and hard. "Which was, undoubtedly, the first lie you told me." 

"Yes, ma'am. The same." 

Raising herself to her full height, Her Majesty took a step forwards. The voice commanding, clipped and angry. 

"If it _IS_ you.....then you'll know! I told you then, never to return here! You do _NOT_ belong in my world. I banished you to flee for the stars, and to stay there. You and your accomplice, who flit through Time and think it fun, who defy the laws of science, and make it a joke. You are evil.  
My Torchwood Institute was set up to guard against the likes of you, _'DOCTOR'!_  
Yet you have the audacity to present yourself in front of me once more......and this time wearing a different face....it's unnatural! It's alien! And I will _NOT_ allow it.....!" 

In the midst of this tirade, the Queen suddenly hesitated.

".......and yet......it _IS_ you, I know it, I see it.....it's in the eyes......" 

"Ma'am.......pardon me!" Bill rushed forward keenly, hands outstretched. "The Doctor is a good man. He's helped mankind countless times......without him none of you would probably be here. He's brave and fearless.....but most of all, he's kind. He can help you.....perhaps he can help your Grandson......" 

The Doctor held out a hand to silence his eager companion. 

"You lied to _me_ too......" He muttered coldly, breaking his silence once more.

He was met with an indignant scoff. 

"How dare you!" She began.

"......you told Rose and I that your cut hand was a splinter from the door as it burst from its hinges. That was the lie. You knew it then, and I know it now. And now we are all suffering the consequences."  
Anger was building, the cyan eyes blazing. 

But the Queen countered it.

"This is outrageous! I will have you escorted......" 

"Ma'am. I beg you......" Sir William surged forward suddenly, kneeling at the feet of his Royal mistress, taking her hand in his own. "......please ma'am.......this is out of our control now. There is nothing medical I can offer, we need help, Your Majesty, I cannot stay silent any longer.....we both know what exposure could mean, but I'm convinced we can trust The Doctor, and his friends."

Jenny rushed to catch the Monarch, as her knees seemed to give way. Holding her firmly with her good arm, easing her back. 

"Your Majesty, you can't protect 'im anymore. He's dangerous. What if he marries? Has children? Becomes King one day as he's 'sposed to? What then? He's killed people, increasingly brutally. The people he has murdered had friends, family......they mattered. Every bit as much as 'im.  
You are sworn to be a defender....of faith, of truth, of your subjects......that's the oath you made at your Coronation!" 

From behind her a low chanting suddenly began.....

_"Lupus magnus est, lupus fortis est, lupus deus est......lupus magnus est, lupus fortis est, lupus deus est......."_

It was the Doctor. 

"Remember? Your _MAJESTY!"_ He barked, his eyes cold. 

_"The wolf is great, the wolf is strong, the wolf is GOD!"_

"STOP IT! Stop it, Doctor!" Clamping her hands over both ears, the Queen tried to shut out his words. 

"You knew it had bitten you......didn't you? _DIDN'T YOU?_ Your _MAJESTY!"_

The Doctor paced, as everyone watched him, dumbfounded. He almost spat out the words, chiding and challenging, as the little Queen visibly sank under the enormity of them.

"Yet you did _nothing_ , said nothing......you confided in Gull here only when it was clear it wasn't healing.......then one day......one day soon after, your grandson fell and hurt his leg at Windsor.......you tended him...... _DIDN'T YOU?_ And somehow......somehow, you infected him! Is that how it happened? _IS IT?"_

_"YES! YES!"_ She burst like a wave hitting the rocks, a flurry of pain and anguish. 

The Timelord fury vanished as soon as the Queen caved. His face softened, the eyes becoming kindly.  
Both hands resting over those of the distraught sovereign. 

"You didn't know what to do." He said softly. "I understand. It's barely affected you at all. You'd been very careful not to infect anyone else. But Prince Albert Victor.....he's different. Not strong. When did you first notice the change?" 

The eyes that sought his were wet. Almost pleading. 

"Oh Doctor! What have I done?" She sobbed. "I have been so afraid. So alone. It was an accident. I'd knocked the scab from the wound. It began almost immediately."  
Her short, stubby fingers clung to the long elegant ones of the man at her side. Seeking comfort.  
"He's always been slow, poor boy, born prematurely, cosseted by his mother.  
Self indulgent, and like his wretched father, my eldest son, promiscuous, decadent. Not at all like his dearest Grandpapa.  
But the tempers! The not sleeping at night. He took to visiting brothels.....insatiable, profligate, unmentionable things. We found Netley, and paid him well, to make sure he came to no real harm. But then......then it happened, last February."

"Annie Millwood." Jenny whispered quietly. 

Queen Victoria nodded. Wiping a tear and sniffing slightly.  
Reaching into an inside pocket, The Doctor offered her a clean white handkerchief, which was accepted gladly. 

"Since then we've been at our wits end. We've tried to keep him out of London as far as possible, but whenever he returns.......well......he's an adult, we can't keep him chained up!  
Oh, Doctor! What will become of him? What can we do? Can you help us? Can you?" 

The grip lessened, the Doctor rose to his feet. 

"I'm not sure. I'll need to see him. I can only do my best. Just as my predecessors tried to do.....to help you, just as MacLeish's father did, to keep you safe, with the aid of your beloved Albert.  
Don't lose hope Your Majesty. We won't fall under the Empire of The Wolf just yet." 

Turning, the Timelord addressed Nardole. 

"I'll need my Blue Box. Could you bring it here?" He asked. "And have Vastra and Strax sent up. It's time Her Majesty met the people who have been faithfully keeping the streets a safer place to be, who work tirelessly with the Police for little or no reward. Who, like me, are far from their own worlds, but who live amongst you, trying to do some good." 

Nardole gave a small bow and retreated. 

It was a few moments later that a knock on the door hailed the arrival of the Silurian and the Sontaran. 

Both came forward and bowed low. Strax first. 

_"By the might of the Sontaran Empire I give greetings to the Empress of India, Queen of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. May the sun shine on your House forever."_ He stated, very formally. 

Strax backed away, allowing Madame Vastra to the come to the fore. 

"It is an honour to meet you ma'am, a privilege to serve you, if only in a small capacity. We are both grateful to you for receiving us. I hope you understand, that not all who visit from other worlds are a threat. We will do all in our power to assist you." 

Vastra drew her sword with great ceremony, and bending, laid it at the sovereign's feet. 

Looking up at the three, Strax, Vastra and The Doctor, the Queen spoke. 

"I have done you a great wrong. _Sir Doctor of Tardis_. Please accept my humble apologies." 

The Doctor nodded in assent. 

Clapping together her hands, she turned then and reached for the bell chord. 

"I have a message to be sent to Marlborough House, it must be delivered into the hand of my Grandson."  
She ordered, with authority, as a smart, liveried footman entered. "And sent the maid in. I think we are in need of some restorative tea!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prince Albert Victor, Duke of Clarence and Avondale was an actual Ripper suspect, although not officially investigated. There were several scandals surrounding him which were hushed up by his Father, (later Edward VII) and Lord Salisbury.


	20. The Prince of Darkness.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor finally meets Prince Eddy.
> 
> A quiet ineffectual soul, who meekly allows himself to be examined.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are various nods to Tooth and Claw here, the disease and it's symptoms are all taken directly from the actual dialogue. 
> 
> The Prince was well documented as not being strong, either physically or mentally. In fact he was a constant worry to both his parents and his grandmother, who vastly favoured his, eminently more suitable, younger brother George. 
> 
> Although in the timeline of series ten, we probably haven't reached the 'Monk' adventures, (I've deliberately been ambiguous as to when exactly this story happens)  
> Clearly the Doctor is already aware of Nardole's talent with the Tarovian Neck Pinch, a most useful tool to have in your arsenal! 
> 
> As regards the use, or over use, of opium in Victorian medicine (even Queen Victoria was rumoured to have taken it) there is a beautiful poem by Samuel T Coleridge, a favourite poet of mine, which tells of the horrific nightmares he suffered whilst trying to wean himself from the drug. I give it here.......
> 
> The Pains of Sleep  
> BY SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE  
> Ere on my bed my limbs I lay,  
> It hath not been my use to pray  
> With moving lips or bended knees;  
> But silently, by slow degrees,  
> My spirit I to Love compose,  
> In humble trust mine eye-lids close,  
> With reverential resignation  
> No wish conceived, no thought exprest,  
> Only a sense of supplication;  
> A sense o'er all my soul imprest  
> That I am weak, yet not unblest,  
> Since in me, round me, every where  
> Eternal strength and Wisdom are. 
> 
> But yester-night I prayed aloud  
> In anguish and in agony,  
> Up-starting from the fiendish crowd  
> Of shapes and thoughts that tortured me:  
> A lurid light, a trampling throng,  
> Sense of intolerable wrong,  
> And whom I scorned, those only strong!  
> Thirst of revenge, the powerless will  
> Still baffled, and yet burning still!  
> Desire with loathing strangely mixed  
> On wild or hateful objects fixed.  
> Fantastic passions! maddening brawl!  
> And shame and terror over all!  
> Deeds to be hid which were not hid,  
> Which all confused I could not know  
> Whether I suffered, or I did:  
> For all seemed guilt, remorse or woe,  
> My own or others still the same  
> Life-stifling fear, soul-stifling shame. 
> 
> So two nights passed: the night's dismay  
> Saddened and stunned the coming day.  
> Sleep, the wide blessing, seemed to me  
> Distemper's worst calamity.  
> The third night, when my own loud scream  
> Had waked me from the fiendish dream,  
> O'ercome with sufferings strange and wild,  
> I wept as I had been a child;  
> And having thus by tears subdued  
> My anguish to a milder mood,  
> Such punishments, I said, were due  
> To natures deepliest stained with sin,—  
> For aye entempesting anew  
> The unfathomable hell within,  
> The horror of their deeds to view,  
> To know and loathe, yet wish and do!  
> Such griefs with such men well agree,  
> But wherefore, wherefore fall on me?  
> To be loved is all I need,  
> And whom I love, I love indeed. 
> 
> It gives a graphic description of the terrors of withdrawal.

CHAPTER TWENTY.  
THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS. 

It was some while before the familiar groan of the Tardis materialising could be heard in the room next to where the group sat elegantly drinking tea. As if they might be at a garden party, or at the races, or Henley. 

The irony was not lost on any of them, apart from, perhaps, The Queen, who seemed to be focused on light conversation, and the beverage itself, whilst they waited patiently. 

Nardole stepped out onto the plush Persian rug and glanced about him.  
This room was lined with oak bookshelves, rows and rows of them. 

Leather bound, embossed. A strong, musty smell pervaded the air, a mixture of wax polish and decaying wood pulp.  
It saddened the man to see them. Abandoned, largely untouched and unread. Slowly mouldering away. 

Shrugging to himself he entered the drawing room nextdoor, where the others were seated.

"Ah! You're back! Come and join us for tea!" 

A spare chair was pulled up for him. 

Just a brief glance at The Doctor, and the tiniest of nods of the head between them, as the little companion sat himself down amongst them all. 

"It's nice here!" He remarked pointlessly. "I like what you've done with the place. Very _'Victorian'!_ "

A second glance from The Doctor, and a slight shake of the head silenced him. 

"When you're finished I will call for my carriage, and we will repair to Marlborough House." Her Majesty stated, flatly. 

"We can travel in the Tardis." Vastra spoke before really thinking. 

"Where the Queen goes, an entourage goes with her." The sovereign indignantly replied. "The Queen must be accompanied everywhere. Particularly in the capital. Her Majesty does not travel through the ether on a whim, she is properly escorted, and every outing is carefully planned. There are no impromptu excursions for The Queen of the Realm!" 

oOo

Madame Vastra, heavily veiled, with Sir William Gull and Inspector Abberline, accompanied the Queen's cortège as it left Buckingham Palace and travelled down The Mall.  
The coach was a covered one, but with its escort, it still attracted a great deal of attention.  
Her Majesty sat, waving politely as she passed well wishers, but remained stony faced. 

"You, more than anyone, must know what it's like to be so terribly _visible!_ " The old lady remarked, turning to Madame. 

"I find that most people see beyond the veil after a while. It takes time, but eventually, the majority see me for what I am, not what they think me to be......a freak.....no doubt it's much the same for you!" 

"Indubitably!" Her Majesty agreed. 

Once at Marlborough House, the group reconvened in Sir William's surgery, where the Tardis was already parked discreetly behind the door. Just as it had been when The Doctor and Bill carried out their nocturnal fact finding mission. 

It was not long before they were joined by the Prince. 

He was alone, the rest of the Wales family having departed for Sandringham the day before. 

A more uninspiring young man, The Doctor had yet to meet. 

Prince Eddy, in his twenties, was not without looks. Extremely smartly dressed, sporting signet rings on two of the fingers of his left hand. His hair parted to one side, a thin rather rakish moustache on his top lip. There was something almost feminine about him, Bill decided. 

Not particularly tall, of slim, athletic build, but a certain pallor there. A yellowing of the skin.  
His eyes were clear and blue, very like to that of both his parents and his grandmother. 

The Timelord chiefly perceived a slowness of wit about him. A marked dullness, and distinct lack of intelligence, although his manner was unaffected and charming enough.  
He regarded the assembled company with a sullen pout. 

"What's all this?" He challenged. "Grandmama? Your message said you were bringing a _'Specialist'_. Who are all these people?" 

"This is The Doctor." His matriarch replied, holding out a hand to indicate the Gallifreyan, by way of introduction. "Sir William has confided in me that you have not been so well lately, and that he has been unable to help you. Therefore we have engaged Doctor McCrimmon here, to give us a second opinion, we are sure he can help." 

The young man's eyes swept the group, flitting passed the males and focussing on Jenny and Bill. 

"And these? Who are these?" He enquired, addressing his own physician, eyes glinting. 

"Miss Flint and Miss Potts, Your Royal Highness." 

A slight smile flashed across the face, and the Prince licked his lips, moistening them. Bill looked uncomfortably down at her feet.  
Jenny, however, held his gaze steadily, but if she was looking for a spark of recognition, there was none. 

"We work as a team." The Doctor explained, cutting in. "The young ladies are here with me and are under my care. As are my friends, Nardole, and Strax, and the Inspector here." 

The Prince affixed his somewhat vacant stare on Abberline. 

"I recognise you!" He exclaimed. "From _'The London Illustrated'_.....you are investigating these terrible murders in the East End. Are you not?" 

"I am, Sir." Frederick gave a little bow. "And am hoping to soon get to the bottom of it all, with Her Majesty's help. She has very kindly allowed me to accompany the rest." 

"Hmm. Well. Let's get down to it then! Where would you like me?" His Highness held out his hands almost as if in surrender. 

The Doctor turned to the others. 

"If you would all like to retreat." He asked them, pointedly. "Nardole is the only assistant I require for the examination. 

With a murmur amongst the ranks, the company, including The Queen, filed out, leaving The Doctor, Nardole and the patient alone. 

Once they were gone, the Doctor turned to the Royal personage. 

"Tell me, Your Grace, how it's been for you." He began, his manner at once gentle and persuasive, motioning towards a chair, before taking a seat himself, as Nardole stood nearby. 

"Oh! Appalling Doctor! Can't sleep a wink. I've complained to Gull on numerous occasions, he's prescribed me some powders, but I'm afraid they've had little or no effect. Dreadful, horrific dreams I've had, nightmares, terrors. When I do finally fall asleep I awake trembling, bathed in sweat, worn out and fearful." 

"Do you happen to know what these _'powders'_ contain?" 

"I have one here in my pocket!" The Prince handed over a small package labelled _'Anodyne'_.  
The Timelord opened it carefully on the desk in front of him before wetting the end of his middle finger, coating it with the white flour-like substance, then putting it to the tip of his tongue. His mouth twisted into a grimace and he passed the packet to Nardole with a mere flicker of his eyes.  
The companion nodded, then disappeared into the Tardis, which had gone entirely unnoticed by Prince Eddy. 

"Do you mind if I smoke?" The Prince took a silver cigarette case from his inside breast pocket. 

"I'd rather you didn't!" The Doctor responded. "Filthy habit." 

The blue eyes of the young man flashed black momentarily, it was such a sudden thing that even the Timelord barely caught it. Gone in a second. But it was there. 

"Fair enough!" He shrugged, replacing the case nonchalantly, but proceeding to drum his fingers on the desk in front of him, clearly slightly agitated. 

The Doctor watched him carefully. 

"So, apart from not sleeping well, is there anything else you've noticed?" He asked, his tone remaining soft and even.  
"Any other symptoms?"

Before his patient could answer, Nardole returned.  
Bending beside his masters shoulder, voice very low, he whispered, "An opium derivative, Sir." 

Nodding in confirmation, the Timelord steepled his fingers in front of him, before continuing. 

"You were about to tell me, Sir....of other symptoms......?" 

"Oh! Yes! Well, tiredness.....obviously......with the not sleeping, although it's become much worse recently. Some mornings I wake feeling as if I've run for miles. Completely exhausted. I've lost weight too. My tailor noticed that! An increase in my......my......um......you know......I don't have to spell it out to _you_ , you're a Doctor....."

"Libido?" The Timelord suggested. 

"Yes! It's becoming quite a problem.....I find myself thinking about.....about...... _that_.....a great deal." 

Standing, the Doctor removed his jacket, and began rolling up his sleeves. 

"I would like to examine you, if I may, give you the old once over! Nothing to fear, so rest assured, I may take a blood sample too, to look at under the microscope, if you're agreeable, it's perfectly painless." 

"By all means.....anything that will help me to feel better, I'm willing to oblige!" 

The young Prince rose and began to unbutton his jacket and waistcoat. 

"Nardole will assist you!" The Doctor cocked his head sideways towards his companion, flashing his eyes and gesturing as a signal between them.  
Nardole pointed to himself and mouthed, _"me?"_ Receiving an emphatic nod in reply.   
With a roll of the eyes and a _"like I'm his bloody lackey!"_ muttered under his breath, the little man came forward and began to take, and carefully fold, the Prince's clothes. 

Once laid on the examination couch, the Doctor rubbed his hands together vigorously. 

"Hope they're not too cold!" He smiled jovially. 

"Don't worry, I can put up with it!" The patient returned. 

Firstly taking the pulse at the wrist, counting the beats beneath his fingers, whilst holding his pocket watch in the other hand, fixed as it was to a chain on his waistcoat.  
The throb was rapid, almost fluttering. The Doctor made a small sound through his lips, and carried on.  
Blood pressure, likewise, elevated for a man of his age and fitness. 

Long fingers next palpated the abdomen, then, laying a palm flat against the chest wall, began tapping the back with the fingers of the other hand against the ribs in various spots, paying attention to the dull echo, before drawing a stethoscope from his pocket, putting the business end over the heart, just to the right of the nipple. Listening through the earpieces for several moments.  
Again, a quiet _'humph'_.  
Before turning to Nardole, and speaking quietly. 

"Tarovian neck pinch I think is required Nardole, my old friend!" 

"Of course, Sir!" Was the easy reply, as his companion moved to the head of the couch. 

"I'll just raise the back of the bed a tad, Your Highness, make your head slightly higher, no need to shift, I'll manage." 

In the split second it took for Nardole's fingers to connect with the soft tissue between shoulder and neck, the Prince's eyes fluttered shut and he was instantly rendered temporarily unconscious. 

"That was beautifully done!" The Doctor remarked. 

"What can I say! It's a gift." His fellow alien smiled. 

"Now then, let's see what we can really do here. I suspect not very much." 

Taking out his sonic screwdriver, the Timelord adjusted the settings, then swept it backwards and forwards over the young man's torso.  
Frowning darkly as he checked the readings. 

"Well?" Nardole demanded. "It's bad isn't it?" 

"Worse than bad." Came the reply. " His constitution is weak. The infection is strong. He's not tough like his grandmother, that's for sure. The rogue gene has barely marked her at all. But her grandson is different, it's killing him." 

"What is it exactly? What do we have?" The companion asked. Lifting the eyelids of the sleeping patient and seeing that they were now as black as coal. 

"A lupine wavelength haemoveriform, otherwise described as a alien mutation which migrates into its host, a human red blood cell, multiplying and eventually causing the condition known colloquially as _lycanthropy_. The ability to transform into a wolf like creature." 

"A werewolf! But we saw him! Running away. He wasn't a wolf, he was a man." 

"Yes. The mutation is not that far advanced yet. My guess is we'll find a raised white cell count, as the body desperately tries to fight it. Markedly elevated testosterone levels, and a body flooded with endorphins, particularly after a kill. It's giving him an almost crazed lust for blood, and a sex drive that's off the scale....."

Taking a syringe, the Doctor applied a tourniquet around the arm just above the elbow, drew some blood, pressing on the tiny pinprick with a square of gauze. 

"Be useful!" He passed the sample to his friend. "Run this through the Tardis lab, see what you can come up with by way of an antidote, or failing that, something to strengthen him against the infestation." 

"On it!" Said Nardole, immediately shuffling away. 

"Oh, my poor young man. Such a simple soul! Methinks you may not be long for this world." The Doctor lamented, looking down on the sleeping form. 

Nardole returned after a few moments, his expression downcast. 

"His immune system is completely shot to hell, Doctor. A simple common cold could wipe him out. And it's as you said, masses of testosterone and a white cell count through the roof." 

"No cure? Not that I'm expecting one......a tonic perhaps, to help build up his strength?" 

Nardole handed over a bottle, followed by a filled syringe. 

"Iron rich cordial. The injection is an anti-toxin, but the effect will be only temporary. Will it progress Doctor? Will he begin to change.....full moon and all that?" He asked sorrowfully.

The Doctor injected the serum, folding the limp arm back on itself and holding it there.  
"He won't live that long I fear. The best we can advise is to keep him safely in the country and let him rest. We can't lock him up or put him in an asylum. He's royalty for god's sake. Imagine the scandal if it got out! The Republicans would have a field day." 

"What about the killings? Surely he's a danger? Do you think he's even aware of what he's doing?" Nardole looked down at the peaceful young face, as the eyelids began to flutter. 

"Possibly, when he's actually committing the atrocities. But afterwards......." The Doctor shrugged. ".....I think not. He'll probably have vague memories, but put it down to the sleep deprivation or the dreadful nightmares.....which, I hasten to add, are more than likely enhanced by the opium in the sleeping draughts." 

"He's waking up!" Nardole observed. 

"What _I'M_ more worried about is how the hell we are going to tell The Queen." 

The Doctor moved forward, placing his cool hand on the Royal forehead, stroking gently.

"All done Sir! You're fit as a fiddle." The grin was just a little too wide, and Nardole frowned at his friend. 

"That's wrong." He whispered. "You shouldn't have said that!" 

"Then what do you suggest? The Doctor hissed. "Tell him the truth, that he's doomed? Perhaps _you'd_ like to be the one to tell him?" 

The Prince yawned, and sat up. 

"Did I drop off?" 

His eyes were the clearest blue again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Prince Albert Victor, Duke of Clarence and Avondale.


	21. Farewells.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor speaks to Queen Victoria alone. 
> 
> It is time to say goodbye to Paternoster Row.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.  
FAREWELLS. 

The Prince, none the worse for his examination, had taken himself off upstairs with his valet, to pack in readiness for travelling to up to Norfolk, to join the other members of his family at Sandringham. 

The Doctor was cosseted with The Queen in a private ante-chamber.

Alone. 

None of the others in the company knew what passed between them, only that when they both emerged, Her Majesty was clearly distressed, dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. 

"It is up to you and his parents to keep him safe." The Timelord said, as the conversation concluded. "As far as possible, on a country estate somewhere, or at Sandringham, well out of harms way.  
The Prince is wired differently to other people ma'am, possibly due to his premature birth.  
You, his father and mother and his educators might brand him a simpleton, a dullard, but in my world we would probably call him dyslexic.  
Either way, it leaves him weak. He lacks strength of mind and strength of body.  
I don't think he even fully comprehends what's wrong with him, and that is probably just as well.  
I have given him a tonic and something that will suppress his..... _'urges'_ , but be assured, if he fails to administer it regularly, the symptoms will quickly return. He will be a danger, both to himself and others." 

Reaching out, the Doctor laid a hand over that of the sovereign.  
"I'm sorry I can't give you more hope ma'am. Truly I am. I've done everything I can for him. I will inform Sir William of the best way to care for him." 

The elderly Monarch nodded.

"He will want for nothing. We will see to it. I cannot bear to think of him being incarcerated, or kept under sedation. But I understand what is to be done. There will be constant medical supervision. I thank you Sir Doctor, for everything you have done. I was wrong about you.....and your friends. I see that now.  
By the by, I meant to ask, what became of your companion, the _'wee feral child'_ you travelled with before? Rose?"

The Doctor's face clouded.

"She is on another world, Your Majesty. A parallel universe to this one.....and she is happy......and that's all anyone can hope for in this life."

"I'm glad. She was a feisty young thing! But bright as a button." 

The Timelord smiled wistfully. 

"Yes ma'am." He murmured. "She most certainly was." 

oOo

Evening drew in, a cold frosty November night.  
The gang seated themselves around the table, back at Paternoster Row, an open bottle and glasses arranged in front of them. 

"Well, Doctor, it's a conclusion of sorts, but not quite the one we expected." Madame Vastra remarked. 

The Doctor addressed the Inspector. 

"I'm so sorry for you Fred. History will mark you down as having done a poor job. Vilified by people and press alike. No one will know the truth, how hard you have worked, it will all remain hidden....." 

Abberline raised his glass. 

"As long as these murders cease, I'll be content." He replied. 

"So, hang on.....let me get this straight......The Prince, right? He would eventually start to change, at every full moon, wreak havoc, then revert.....and no one would know it was him?" Bill tried her best to get her head around the information. 

"Afraid so." Replied the Doctor sadly, his thoughts somewhere far away . "Like Ursula into Vanessa......then back again......" 

"Wait! What? Come again......?"

"Ursula.....Vanessa.......The Little Mermaid.......it's a movie......don't tell me you've not seen it?  
OH BILL!!! Where on earth have you been? It's _DISNEY!!"_

"Oh my G......Doctor, you are so.....so......." 

"Annoying?" Nardole suggested. 

"Smug!" Bill accused, thumping hard on the Doctor's arm, as he chuckled.

"Ow!" He squeaked, clutching the offending spot with his other hand. "You don't know your own flipping strength, you!" 

"Oh rubbish! There's no way you felt that through all the bloody layers you wear!!" She was laughing now, as were the others. 

"She punched me like that! _Me!_ Nardy! She's violent she is!!" Nardole added, feeling the top of his his own arm at the memory. 

"Time we were going I think!" The Timelord drained his glass. "I hate protracted farewells, but......" 

"I know Doctor. But if there were no goodbyes, there would be no meetings."  
Vastra stood up, raising her own tribute. 

"Safe travels Doctor. Think of us sometimes, and return if you can, we will be here, ready to welcome you."  
She turned to Bill.  
"And you, Miss Bill Potts. So compassionate and brave! Look after The Doctor for us, he needs you.....and you too Nardole, you are his staunchest friends and allies, and we all need those in our lives!" 

A toast was made, and the three rose to take their leave. 

Jenny came forwards and hugged first Bill;  
"Goodbye dear Bill. Remember to always follow your heart. And never be ashamed of what or who you are." The two kissed each other on both cheeks before separating, then turning to the Doctor, she placed a hand on his left cheek gently. 

"You are a dear man. Thank you for what you did for me." She glanced down at her bandaged arm. "Don't forget us.....I beg you.....it'll seem so long before we 'ear the sound of the Tardis again, take special care of yourself."  
To her surprise the man who, when she last met him, spurned hugs, pulled her close and kissed her cheek.  
"How could I forget you? Fearless Miss Flint, with a heart the size of a house? Carry on the great work, doing good, helping out. It's what you do best!" 

They parted, Jenny's eyes watering.  
Everyone else hugged or shook hands, the Doctor noogied Strax yet again, just because he could, making everyone except the Sontaran laugh anew. 

Vastra came and stood before the Gallifreyan, her reptilian eyes on his. Both hands clasping each other's tight. 

"Farewell. Timelord." 

"You know what to do Madame? It's bound to happen again, but do what you can to prevent it. I don't want any more vulnerable women to suffer. But there's sure to be lapses. I rely on you to cover it up as best you can, Fred will help you, or his successor if he's not there." 

"I know, Doctor. Leave it to Jenny and I, and Strax. The secret will remain hidden. No one will know. Goodbye, and may the Goddess protect you!" 

Going up on tip-toes, she kissed him on the cheek warmly. 

"Well, can't hang around here all night, kissing and cuddling! I must go! I have an oath to fulfil. Nardole will be on my back if we don't return soon....there's a vault needing guarding, I made a promise." 

"Be careful Doctor. You should listen to Nardole more, he has your best interests at heart!" 

_"Shhh!_ Don't let him hear you say that.....he'll be completely unbearable!" The eyes twinkled with an amused smile as they stood away from each other. 

Eventually the friends trooped out into the chilly yard, with a final wave, before they disappeared into the Tardis.  
Slowly but surely it faded in and out of view, until the grinding sound ceased and nothing was left but a square of dry cobblestones where it stood, wisps of straw swirling in the breeze it made as it disappeared. 

Turning, with a collective sigh, arm in arm, the melancholy group returned to the warmth of the house. 

oOo

Bill emerged minutes later into the Professor's office at the university. 

Back in her jeans, trainers and favourite baseball jacket. Her hair gloriously free from the constraints of careful combing and teasing! She shook out her curls with unashamed abandon.  
The Doctor looked on with an amused smile.

"Better?" He laughed.

"Marvellous!" Her wide grin was warm and genuine.

"Bill, I have something to say to you." 

Her happy face clouded.

"What 'ave I done _now?_ Seriously Doctor, I put my essay on your desk!" 

"No! Not that. I didn't say a proper thank you." He returned, smiling again. 

"What for?" Bill looked confused. 

"For what you did in the street, pushing me out of the path of the carriage. It was very brave. Spectacularly foolhardy, but very brave! Thank you!" 

"Aww, shucks! Tha's okay!" Embarrassed, she shuffled her feet, looking down at them. 

"May I give you a hug? Since this is apparently a good day for giving them?" 

"Course!" She beamed, stepping into his embrace. 

Nardole, coming out of the Tardis, on seeing what was occurring, joined in without hesitation. Encircling them both with his arms. 

"Isn't this nice!" He cooed. "I love cuddles!!"


	22. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The finale of the story, and what happened after The Doctor, Bill and Nardole left to continue their adventures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter. Thank you so much for reading. 
> 
> I apologise if the story didn't quite meet expectations. But I have to write for myself, and I have to write my own way and in my own style. To do anything else would be to just cut and paste from someone else, and I will never, nor have I ever, done that. 
> 
> To say I was disappointed by its reception is an understatement really. I thought it was a sound plot and a story people would enjoy. Clearly that's not the case. I'm not really sure why.....story not good enough? no sex? unpopular subject matter? badly written? I actually think it's because there's no Clara, and there are people who can't move passed that pairing. (Please don't get me wrong, I like Clara, but she isn't the be all and end all of the show. It's SO much more than that) but hey. Who knows?  
> I put quite a lot of work into my stories generally, and if they are picked apart or ignored completely it is all rather discouraging. However. Them's the breaks I guess!  
> Who was it who said "all the world's a critic!?" 
> 
> To those who have sent me kudos and encouraging messages, thank you so much. I must particularly mention my friend @misswinterseat, who is always honest with me and I trust her judgement. Also @marieannelouise who has almost single handedly been the reason this story wasn't abandoned completely. You kept me going long after I would have given up, and I came very close to it with this one.  
> Please look out for a Malcolm Tucker story to come soon. Xxx

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.  
EPILOGUE. 

_1889._

It was a warm early morning on 17th July, the weather had been humid and sticky, prompting many more people out onto the streets.  
Madame Vastra, her face set hard, stepped out of the coach, followed closely by Jenny.  
Both women were armed.  
Walking from Whitechapel High Street into nearby Castle Alley, they could see a knot of people milling about, as if waiting for something to happen, but coming towards them, Jenny spotted Abberline. 

"What have we got?" Vastra asked quietly, standing close beside the Inspector. 

"A middle aged local woman, a prostitute, named Alice McKenzie, her throat has been cut and there are zig-zag cuts on her navel and thigh. She was found lying by a lamp post." 

"Is it _Him_ what's done it, do you think?" Jenny's face was white. 

"Not sure. It could be, or it could be someone trying to make it look like 'The Ripper'."

The Inspector pushed his hat back on his head and scratched it distractedly.

"A copy-cat killing?" Jenny breathed. "After all these months! I must admit, I was rather hoping......" 

"Should we contact the Palace?" Madame's voice was no more than a whisper. 

"The story I will give to the press is that this is a random murder. I and my men will be hunting for a local suspect...." Abberline replied. 

"Then there is no more we can do. Contact us if you need us. I bid you good day Inspector." 

Vastra bowed slightly, retreating to the carriage, Jenny following in her wake. 

oOo

_1891._

It was not until early on 13th February, more than eighteen months later, that Strax opened the door to a telegram boy. 

The message he carried was from an Inspector Flanagan, who had by now replaced Frederick Abberline in charge of the 'Ripper' file. 

_Murder. Stop. Please come. Stop. Swallow Gardens. Stop. The Ripper. Stop. Flanagan. Stop._

On reaching the spot, it transpired that at 2.15 that morning, Police Constable Ernest Thompson, who was walking his usual beat, paused at the archway to the Great Eastern Railway, the trainline above heading into Liverpool Street in one direction, and to Stratford in the other.  
In the gloom of the single street light which lit the passageway leading from Swallow Gardens to Orman Street there lay a body. 

Passing the same place on his regular circuit not less than 15 minutes before, he was adamant the body wasn't there then. In fact he told Inspector Flanagan, Madame Vastra and Jenny that he was sure he'd heard a man's footsteps walking away from him as he rounded the corner. 

Shining his lamp, he found, to his horror, a woman lying in a pool of blood. Her throat slit from ear to ear.  
Thompson blew his police whistle, bringing two nearby officers running. They were joined by a third, a plain clothes detective. None of whom had seen or heard a sound, prior to the whistle. 

Unlike the previous murders in the open, Flanagan insisted the body not be moved, and so it remained where it was. 

Kneeling, careful to avoid the sticky residue of blood seepage, Vastra peeled back the grubby tarpaulin which had been used to cover the corpse.  
It was immediately clear, that, unlike the killings ascribed to The Ripper, this one did not compare in any other detail other than the slitting of the throat.  
There was no further mutilation. 

Jenny pointed this out to the Inspector. 

"It could be that we're looking at a different killer entirely, or that the assassin 'ears the approaching footsteps of a constable's thumping great size tens and decides to leg it!" She remarked. 

It was not until the inquest opened the following day, that locals came forward to identify the woman as Frances Coles.  
She was seen to leave her lodgings in Thrawl street, by Mrs Hague, her landlady. Who was later to spy her in a pub on the corner of Montague Street, drinking with a man.  
Mrs Hague described him as 'of fair complexion and with a light moustache.'

On hearing this information Madame headed straight for Marlborough House, only to find that the entire Wales family were, at present staying on the Elveden Estate near Thetford in Norfolk, and had been there all week, at a shooting party with the Maharajah Duleep Singh.  
It seemed unlikely or at least improbable, that his Grace, the Duke of Clarence and Avondale had been able to travel, unnoticed, back to London, returning to Elveden Hall before he was missed. 

It was later that day that a local man, James Thomas Sadler, an erstwhile friend of Coles, was arrested and charged with the murder.  
The case against him collapsed however, when the gentleman in question was able to prove he'd been mugged earlier in the evening and had not been with Frances anywhere near the time she was killed. 

It was therefore concluded that Frances Coles was murdered by _'person or persons unknown'_. 

No one was ever convicted for either her murder nor that of Alice McKenzie. 

oOo

_January 1892......._

Christmas had ushered in a cold snap, which continued well into the New Year. 

Snow lay thick and heavy in the suburbs.  
On the narrow streets of London a frozen slurry covered the cobbled streets.  
Icicles hung from every roof top and gutter. 

A biting chill swept down the country straight from the Arctic. Closing highways and preventing deliveries. 

The poor and destitute suffered most cruelly, having little or no adequate shelter. 

Hundreds sickened and died.  
Frozen to death where they slept, in doorways or churchyards. 

Thin, threadbare clothing, a lean diet of soup or bread, if they were lucky. 

Death walked among them, stealing their breath. Picking off the weak and the vulnerable.  
The youngest babe, to the eldest grandma. 

Coughs and colds were rife. No one was safe. 

Strax entered the kitchen through the back door in a flurry of snowflakes. 

Shaking off and discarding his thick overcoat, muffler, hat and gloves. 

The kitchen Range was warm, and on the hob top bubbled a saucepan of mutton stew, with suet dumplings. 

From his pocket he retrieved three toffee apples and the newspaper he'd bought from the stand on the corner beside the Cathedral. 

Smoothing out the damp and crinkled edges, he carried it through to the front parlour. 

A fire burned bright in the grate, the lamps lit, even though it was only mid afternoon. 

Madame Vastra was seated at one end of a comfortable couch, her spouse stretched the full length, her feet up, a blanket tucked over her legs, head laid gently in her lover's lap.  
Her long dark hair was loose, and the Silurian was idly stroking a scaled hand through it, with soothing motions.  
Eyes closed. Resting. 

On hearing the Sontaran enter she stirred, opening her eyes, sitting up and at once launching into a paroxysm of coughing. 

"How is the patient today?" Strax enquired.

"A little better. A good night's sleep and the linctus is working." Vastra replied, peering down at her wife, as Jenny blew her nose and swallowed painfully. 

"The headline in the newspaper will interest you, Madame." 

The old warrior handed over _'The London Illustrated'_ , with a slight incline of the head. 

Taking the publication, Madame unfolded it carefully as Jenny curled under the comforting arm of her partner, resting against the shoulder, receiving a gentle kiss on the top of her head for her trouble. 

"What is it?" She croaked. 

The whole front page spread was taken up with a single picture. 

"Oh my!" Jenny exclaimed, clutching her chest with her handkerchief in her hand. 

"So." Madame said quietly, refolding the paper slowly and laying it aside. "It is ended." 

oOo

The secret was never told. 

Prince Eddy's brother George eventually became King after the death of his father Edward VII in 1910. 

He reigned as George V until 1936. 

Since then, countless theories have been put forward as to who the Ripper might have been.  
Some sublime, some ridiculous. 

No one was ever caught. No one ever bought to trial. No justice ever won for the poor victims, however many there actually were. 

_It is a mystery that remains unsolved to this day._

 

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prince Albert Victor had been attended by several Doctors from around 1880 onwards. His symptoms were described severally as 'gout' or 'fever' although it was widely rumoured he'd contracted venereal disease from one of the many liaisons he was reported to have had with women of ill repute. 
> 
> Other reports surfaced, both during and after his lifetime of various scandals with which he was connected, which were either hushed up or blamed on another party who was used as a scapegoat or cover to keep his name from the papers. There were also rumours of a child being attributed to him, which caused the possible theory that Sir William Gull committed the Ripper murders to silence the woman involved and the child's nursemaid and other acquaintances.  
> Nothing was ever proven. 
> 
> The Prince fell ill in the Influenza pandemic of 1888-92, and a week after his 28th birthday, developed pneumonia and subsequently passed away on 14th January, at Sandringham.
> 
> John Netley, who was implicated in the Whitechapel Murders by being named as Sir William Gull's coachman in the 1976 book by author Steven Knight, died in 1903 when he was thrown from his van under the hooves and wheels, having hit the central obelisk just off Regents Park. The verdict was accidental death.


End file.
